When I get you alone, babe!
by Nightingale63
Summary: Badboy!Blaine is a transfer to McKinley. Curiosity and courage: are these strong enough for Kurt to get past the new guy's scary exterior? And Blaine seems to have some, well, unusual skills, in a funhouse of a story where all is not always what it seems. With New Directions, Warblers, and Cooper. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Enjoy! This will be a multi-chapter story: steamy like the midsummer night air, sweet as an Italian ice bought on the fairway, with twists and turns like an antique wooden rollercoaster, complete with side trips to the fun house, where illusion reigns supreme (and romance can sometimes get even steamier).**

**This is of course somewhat AU, but McKinley is basically the same, as is Dalton. Rated T for language, and situations.**

**I don't own Glee, or any name brands or songs that crop up here!**

_Yes, Rachel, I'm here now! See you in the choir room._ Kurt snapped his phone shut . I'd actually get there faster if you didn't keep hounding me! he grumbled to himself. Yes, he was (checking the time) three whole minutes late, but what the hell! First day of junior year, and yes, he was impressed by her enthusiasm, but why did it also have to involve waking him up extra early?

His phone vibrated again in his pocket as he strode down the halls of William McKinley High. _I have coffee for you!_ He smiled at the text message, and decided he could forgive Rachel for this summons to a meeting. He was almost there when he was violently shaken out of his reverie by a brutal body slam into the wall of lockers.

"Hummel! Gay much? What the hell are you wearing, your granny's cologne?" Not waiting for an answer, Karofsky sauntered away with a sneer as Kurt slumped to a sitting position on the floor.

Damn! Kurt thought he'd remembered what those slams felt like, but the memory didn't compare at all to the painful original. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and looked up in surprise when he felt his shoulder being lightly tapped.

"Hey! You OK?"

Kurt shook his head, took the hand extended to him, and stood up to greet… a stranger. "Uh, thanks. I'll be all right." He looked, and was pretty sure he'd never seen this guy before. He wasn't someone he would have expected help from, for sure: whoever this was, in his black skinny jeans with a black rock band shirt (who the hell were Freelance Whales?), motorcycle boots, heavy silver chains dangling from his jeans and jacket in odd places, with slicked black hair, looked scarier than Puckerman.

"Good. Later!" The stranger flashed a gorgeous smile at Kurt, and then turned to go the other way down the long hallway.

"Yeah. Later." Kurt whispered. He smiled at the retreating form of the mystery boy. He'd barely seen his face at all. Kurt wished he'd looked at his face instead of his clothes.

"Kurt! Come on! Your coffee will get cold!" Rachel scurried down the hall, looking for Kurt, her patience wearing thin as she waited to get their glee strategy meeting started. "Artie, Mike, and Tina are already there!" Rachel stopped to look at Kurt, noticing he looked a little stunned. Seeing no evidence of a slushie attack, her brows furrowed as she tried to figure out what was up with her friend. "Where's Finn?"

Kurt went along down the hall with her, as Rachel had gripped his arm, leading him to the choir room. "Rachel." She looked at him, opening the door. "I know my way, you know. You don't have to lead me around like some kind of frantic seeing eye dog!" He was about to launch into a snarky remark about Finn not living in his back pocket when Rachel handed him a cup from the Lima Bean. He took his first sip, pure heaven, and looked down at Rachel, whose eyes suddenly brightened: Finn had slipped in just behind them. "Sorry, Rach, you didn't deserve that. And thank you so much for getting me this."

Kurt was glad Mike was in his honors English class. It was right before lunch, and they both had the same lunch period, which meant he wouldn't have to go alone to the caf to find the glee club table. They'd chatted about the heavy reading list, gotten out their lunches (neither one of them liked the school food) and settled in to wait for more friends to join them at a table outside.

"I said get away from my stuff!" Their heads snapped at the very angry,very loud voice a few tables away, on the outside rim of the enclosed courtyard. Kurt recognized the boy who was yelling: the stranger from this morning.

"Hey! it was an honest mistake, all right? My bag looks just like yours. Sorry!" Mike recognized the boy who was backing away fast, Justin Mara, from his AP Bio class.

"Maybe we need to make them look a little more different, asshole!" Justin watched fearfully as the boy reached to throw something at him, and Kurt and Mike were horrified to hear the thunk of a knife thrown with great force at the bag, right in front of Justin's chest.

Kurt looked on, terrified. Slushies and getting slammed were routine occurrences at McKinley, as was the occasional trip into a dumpster. But knives? He hadn't seen anyone with one at this school, let alone witnessed one being thrown like that. The jocks clustered at the table near where Justin had been standing just sat there, mouths opened wide, as Justin fled without another word. They moved away a bit as the boy sat at the table next to them that Justin had just vacated.

Finn and Brittany sat down next to Kurt, as Mike leaned over, saying, "I'm going to go check on Justin. Catch you later, Kurt."

"Everything OK, Kurt? You, um, don't look too good right now." Finn frowned at Mike's retreating form.

"Fine. I'm fine. You didn't see anything, did you?" Kurt glanced over to where the new boy was calmly eating his lunch. He really wanted to get a better look, but brought his gaze back to Finn.

"No! What? Did I miss something?

"Porcelain!"

Kurt turned, sighing, ready to see what Coach Sue Sylvester wanted this time. The first glee meeting had gone about like he'd thought it would; Mr. Schue had weird ideas to increase their numbers, Rachel wanted to start planning right away for Sectionals (and of course had songs picked out); not much singing this first day. He was tired; ready to go home, thirsty, hot.

"Yes?"

"I'm hoping you've reconsidered your ill-advised decision from last year. You know you want back in."

Kurt could only shake his head. "Ah, Coach Sylvester, by the way, the name is Kurt, and I think I'm going to say no to what I can only assume is your invitation to re-join the Cheerios."

Sue's eyes narrowed as she considered the teen in front of her. "You're making a mistake, Porcelain, but I'm sure you'll come around. I've got some numbers planned out for you, and you know you loved it." She smirked at Kurt. "See Becky to get your measurements re-done; looks like you've grown some since last year."

Kurt rolled his eyes. He knew his measurements in detail; how else to create his own fashions? As if he'd let Sue's minion put a tape measure anywhere on his body! He had, in fact, enjoyed some aspects of his time in the Cheerios quite a lot, but he really didn't have time for this. He smiled at Sue sweetly. "Bye Coach."

He was almost giddy at the Coach's look of frustration as he walked away from her.

Glee let out almost as late as the sports practices today, and he headed towards his beloved Navigator in the nearly deserted student parking lot. Kurt's mind was preoccupied with anticipating getting home, getting rehydrated, and maybe vegging out with reruns of Project Runway.

"Nice ride." Kurt blanched as the new kid from earlier today suddenly came up behind him.

"Thanks." He had no idea what to say, and this throat was instantly dry, noting that he was completely alone with this guy – who'd been nice, friendly even, this morning, and then revealed himself to be a scary, knife-throwing nut at lunch.

"You all right?" The guy was looking at him with concern. Kurt relaxed a little. He certainly didn't look like a threat, for now.

"Yes! Fine!" Why was he here? Kurt decided to try talking to him as he were any other new student. He was glad for an excuse to look at the boy's face. "My name's Kurt."

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson." Kurt saw his face light up with a smile. And those eyes – he had hazel eyes framed by long lashes, topped with black triangular eyebrows. Why, Kurt wondered, did he look so damned amused? Had he done anything funny? How did someone dressed like such a fashion disaster manage to look so amazingly hot?

"You're new here, aren't you?" he managed to say, congratulating himself on not slipping into his highest register.

"Yup," Blaine said. "Moved here this summer. I'm a junior."

Well, Kurt thought, this conversation was going surprisingly normally. If you can call normal having a conversation with a guy in goth-meets-biker gear who throws knives when he gets pissed normal. Somehow he didn't feel like he was in any danger, and part of his mind wondered why that should be so. "Junior. Me too." Brilliant, Kurt, he thought to himself. He must have paused too long, as he noticed Blaine started to speak again.

"Well, Kurt. Nice to know the name that goes with the face. See you around!" With that, Blaine nodded in a friendly way in Kurt's direction as he started towards his motorcycle parked further out.

"Right! See you tomorrow. I guess." Kurt watched him walk away for a moment before getting his keys out. Damn! Maybe those pants at least weren't a fashion disaster. Not on him anyway. OK! he thought, enough! I don't even want to know what would happen if he caught me staring at him in those skin tight jeans!

Blaine pulled into the driveway of the little house he and his mom had moved into a couple of weeks ago. Her family in the area had all offered to take them in, but she'd gently turned them all down, preferring instead to move into their own place a couple of weeks before the semester started. It was smaller than he was used to, but he liked it more: his parents' fights, which alternated with periods of uncomfortable chilliness, had been hard to be around. Much as he'd hated the idea of them divorcing, he couldn't help but see that his mom actually seemed more relaxed now.

Letting himself in, he dumped his bag into his room and shed his outfit in what his mom would describe as the messiest way possible: jacket, shirt, socks, chains, exploding all over the room. He did use care however, with his knives and holsters, laying them out on the top of his dresser. He didn't regret losing the one he'd thrown at lunchtime: he grimaced for a moment, musing that it was a worthy investment. The table full of jocks? They hadn't said a word, including the Neanderthal who'd pushed that boy into the locker first thing this morning.

Blaine peeled off his sweaty socks, leaving them unceremoniously on the floor, as he loped over to the shower. He'd waited after school, so long he thought maybe he'd missed him, but had been glad to find that he hadn't: he'd wanted to stay to make sure the beautiful boy from the morning made it to his car without getting bullied again. Kurt. He'd seemed nervous, but when he'd finally smiled – wow. Blaine made a mental note to ask Justin about him later tonight.

**A/N: So, badboy!Blaine ... consider yourselves introduced, dear readers. I will update again soon, and would welcome any feedback, comments, speculation … **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yes, a second chapter already! I didn't say it in the first chapter, but let me add here that Blaine looks a lot like he did in the Michael episode, hair gelled fiercely back, add in chains a la Hot Topic accessories. And the rock band tee? Oh, just a band Darren likes ;-)**

**Backstory? Oh yes. I thought you'd never ask.**

**Glee? Other brand names you'd recognize? Don't own 'em, used with love.**

"You know, I don't really know the guy, Blaine. He's a year behind me, and not interested in the basketball team or robotics or debate team as far as I know. So that basically means I don't know him."

"Justin, really? That's all you got?"

Justin smiled as he mimed to his mother that yes, he was talking to his cousin. He could hear the frustration in his voice, but he didn't figure he could do much about it. He sighed, before continuing, "Look, Blaine, I know you saw him get slammed this morning. I'd like to say it's no big deal, but I know you don't see it that way." He paused, trying to figure out how to put this. "Blaine, I haven't seen any serious violence…"

"Getting slammed randomly in the hall isn't serious to you!"

Justin winced; he hated it when Blaine yelled. "Blaine, that didn't come out right. I mean, it's not like people get hospitalized or anything. I mean, he was OK, right?"

Blaine hissed in frustration. "Yes. He appeared to have sustained no major bodily harm, Mr. Debate Team Captain. But he was just minding his own business, and that asshole just slammed him for nothing!"

Justin thought, I don't want to have this conversation again. "You're probably right about what caused it, but my friend Mike knows this kid. He's been through this before, Blaine, and I think he's well… managed before."

Blaine had had enough. Justin was accepting of him, and a decent guy. He wondered if Justin would have done anything if he'd seen what had happened to Kurt. He'd asked a few questions, it was clear Justin didn't know him well enough to really tell him anything. "Right. Well, Justin, I'm gonna let you go, but hey, thanks."

"For what?"

Blaine laughed out loud. Only Justin! "Uh, dude, for participating in our little bit of, shall we say, theater, at lunchtime?"

Justin giggled. "Oh yeah! That! Remember, you said that was a one-off."

"Understood. I mean, hey, it was your bag from last year, right?"

They enjoyed a laugh, the tension dissolving as they discussed how well Blaine's antic had worked. Blaine was pretty sure the jocks would keep their distance, and it wouldn't take too much to reinforce the stereotype he'd painted for them.

Justin's tone switched to all business. "Blaine, you know I said I'd play along on that, but we're going to stick to our original agreement, right?"

"We are. No actual lies. Just a little harmless illusion now and then."

"It's amazing how far you can deceive without actually lying." Justin smirked; his cousin was a master at this.

"Finn, you didn't see the knife throwing?" Kurt had decided to ask Finn once they were alone, cleaning up in the kitchen after dinner.

"Dude!" Finn had looked around, making sure his mom and Burt were nowhere around. "Kurt, no! I mean, I believe you and all, but it must've happened right before I sat down or something. It doesn't sound like any of the teachers saw it either."

Kurt snorted. Since when did the teachers see or do anything, except if it happened right under their noses? And this had been in the area outside the caf, where the teachers never ventured. He knew the jocks had seen it – they'd been much closer to the action. Since it didn't happen to one of them, he wasn't at all surprised that they'd done nothing. He'd been glad that Mike knew the guy, though, and had gone to check on him. True, it didn't look like any damage had happened (except to his messenger bag) but he probably had been terrified.

Blaine got to school early the next day, and waited off to the side entrance under a pine tree, sipping his coffee. He figured Kurt was probably a creature of habit when it came to choice of parking space, like most people, and waited.

It wasn't long before he was rewarded with seeing Kurt cross the parking lot. He was near the side entrance when a big jock stopped him.

"Hey, Hummel!" Kurt kept walking.

The jock in the red letterman jacket caught Kurt's jacket from behind and forced him to turn around.

"I'm just sayin' good morning, Hummel."

Kurt looked around, and before he said anything, another jock grabbed his other arm.

"I thought you fairy boys had, like, good manners or something." He laughed along with the first jock, and reached around with the other arm to heave open the dumpster.

"Hey!" The jocks turned around, hearing the loud call, and noticed the new guy walking towards them. Azimio (the one who'd grabbed Kurt to begin with) nodded 'no' to his friend, who let the dumpster cover clang closed .

"Hey, what. We were just going. Next time mind your manners, fag." He walked away, but was startled when his torso came in contact with the brick wall behind him. The new guy who threw the knife yesterday was stronger than he looked! At close range, Azimio noticed that he was pretty short though, and calculated if he wanted to mess with him. He quickly decided that he didn't want to; dude looked like a juvie, and who knew what he'd do?

"Manners?" Blaine gave another hard shove to the uncomfortable looking jock. "Maybe you better mind yours. Moron." Blaine threw a dark look at him and stalked away, but not before noticing that Kurt had slipped inside the building.

A/N: Hello, dear reader! I'd love to hear from you. Your reviews and thoughts are very welcome (short, long, whatever you've got time for!); I'd love to hear what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N I hope you're enjoying this so far! I know I've enjoyed hearing from you – so here's a big shoutout to all of you – I've been pleased and humbled to see that you as readers are a very diverse group geographically – in a perfect world I think it would be fun for us to meet! Well, we do here, kind of. And I love that. Thanks particularly to those of you who've favorited, and/or are following the story; I'll do my best to keep the updates coming. Lastly, I love to hear from you, and I particularly thank loquaciouslauryn, WeMeow2, and writinggeek for your reviews and feedback. It means a lot to me to hear from you, and helps me be better at producing this story (or just plain encourages me!).**

**As to our story – hold on to your hats, a storm (or two) is on the horizon. A main theme you'll see here is how people will continue to be misled by their assumptions (just a note, remember the funhouse metaphor). Mostly, though, have fun!**

**I don't own Glee, or Hot Topic, or the works of Sir Elton John and use them with love only!**

Blaine felt like he was starting to get the rhythm of his new school down; on this, his third day in, he'd found the gym and was pleased with the equipment overall: the weights area was great, and the boxing practice area pleasantly surprised him. He'd noticed that the jocks gave him space, and no one else bothered with him much either, but he didn't delude himself into thinking his work was done there: the bullies would test him, once they got their courage up, unless he beat them to it, making them think twice before making that sort of a move. He smiled grimly: in this chess game, he was the only one who _knew_ he was playing, and he wasn't planning on waiting until he was check-mated.

He'd learned what he needed to know from the school secretary earlier today: the bubbly thirtyish woman had responded well to his polite inquiries, and he'd learned even more when he smiled at her and made small talk about the glittery decorations littering her desk space (courtesy of her adorable five year old daughter, he'd learned).

_Earlier that day …_

"Why, thank you, Blaine! I'll tell Cindy that you liked the one with the cute yellow bird the best!" Ms . Purcell found it easy to like the new student. Sure, he looked lot a walking Hot Topic ad, but her younger sister had gone through a goth phase and you'd never guess it to see the young professional she was now. The boy was charming, very polite really, she thought.

"I hope you do! She's pretty talented – that really does look like a warbler!" He flashed her another open smile, relieved to find that at least some of the adults at this school didn't dismiss him right away based on his dress. The delight she took in her child's artwork was so sweet. "Can you tell me, how can I get access to the workout room?"

A short conversation later, and he sought out Coach Beiste on his free period. With a bit of prompting, the secretary had described the coach for him, and there she was, right in her office off the gym.

He knocked on the frame of the open door, to get her attention.

Coach looked up, with a distracted smile, to see who was there. Her eyebrows lifted a bit at the sight in front of her: the black-clad kid decorated with chains, with gel slicked hair didn't look like jock material. She looked closer, but the jacket obscured his upper body for the most part. His expression looked all right, she guessed; appropriately polite, patient even. "Can I help you?"

"Hello? You're Coach Beiste?" He noted her polite nod, and continued. "I'd like to talk to you about using the workout room."

"Let's see. Mind telling me who you are, kid?"

"My name is Blaine Anderson, ma'am. I'm a transfer student. A junior." He decided to chance smiling at her a little.

"OK. Are you interested in joining one of the teams? Signups started before the term started, but since you're a transfer maybe you didn't know that." She continued trying to size him up, trying to fit him into a sport. He was on the short side, for sure, especially for a junior, but he was trim. An unwelcome thought crossed her mind: he kind of looked like a juvenile delinquent.

Blaine noticed the shadow that passed over her face as she studied him, guessing he knew what she was thinking. He sighed. In this getup, he knew, politeness would get you only so far. Kind of the point, at least in keeping some people where he wanted them (mostly far away), but not what he wanted right now. He felt the stuffiness in the windowless office, and hoped for a second she didn't spend too much of her time here (but figured she probably didn't). Removing his jacket, he decided to go for a direct approach.

"You're right, I know I missed those. I did play some team sports before, at my old school, but I don't think you have them here." She nodded, giving him nonverbal permission to go on. "I wanted to use the weights, and also the boxing gear."

Later that afternoon...

Blaine was finishing his workout, punching the big bag solidly, methodically. He allowed himself a mental smile, keeping his face blank, as the rest of the football team poured through the doors from the field. Karofsky and Azimio noticed movement in the weights room, and noted the guy who was pounding the hell out of the big bag.

"Damn! He's that heavy metal kid with the knives, right?"

"Shut up, Azimio! Keep it down, all right?" Dave Karofsky shot a glance at the new kid, who was evidently a boxer: the muscles on his back on arms were in full view, and the punches aimed at the punching bag were forceful. He started to check the rest of him out, but stopping himself, turned back to Azimio. "Can't believe Coach found a new kicker."

Azimio nodded his head in disbelief. "Damn hobbit has a mean kick. Still a freak though!"

Dave rolled his eyes, pulling his teammate into the locker room. "Yeah. A dangerous one. Who throws knives! Probably got all those muscles in juvie." _Damn! Did I just go on about this muscles! Not good!_ He snickered. "I heard him tell Coach no way he was going to wear the team jersey anywhere other than on the football field. What the hell! How does he get away with that?"

"Yeah, well, whatever. Do you think he's doing it with Fabray? She looks like his type, nowadays!"

Dave shared a few laughs and crude jokes at Quinn's expense. Azimio made it crystal clear that even as a member of the girl gang that called themselves The Skanks, Quinn was hot. Dave smirked, remembering Quinn's cool brushoff of his clueless teammate: Quinn may have lost her head cheerleader, leader of the Celibacy Club queen bee position in this school, but had clearly forgotten nothing when it came to cutting down to size guys she deemed unworthy of any of her attention. Azimio, of course, pretended that no such dressing down had occurred, keeping up the banter of what he was going to do when he got her out on a date. As if.

Dave went into autopilot as Azimio and the other guys went into their usual recitation of the boys' plans for the hot girls in the school. Once they got in the zone, he knew that it took little input from him to make it seem like he was engaged in their raunchfest. He looked around: it was obvious that if they ever knew his thoughts on who was hot and who was not in this school he'd turn into their new, favorite target. Which would not _ever_ happen, he thought, slamming his locker closed. Not here. Not in high school. Which made being here a kind of a jail sentence. Stealing a last glance at the guys as they changed, some of them heading to the showers, he made an excuse about having to run, needing to pick up his little sister, and got the hell out of there.

Blaine finished his workout, headed to the showers to let the tepid water slosh over him. Coach had let him have the run of the equipment once _she_ knew he knew very well how to use it correctly and had promised to abide by her rules. He mused that she was tougher than he'd expected: he'd had to make a deal he hadn't planned on to get the access he wanted – he was now the new kicker on the football team. But she'd given ground she hadn't wanted to to get this, he knew: she accepted all his terms. He would not wear the team jersey or jacket, any of it, anywhere but on the football field. He would not practice with the team in general, other than at the start of practices for kicking, and that that would be brief. He'd actually been a little surprised that she'd accepted. He was a good kicker, for sure, but he knew his demands could be interpreted as kind of bratty. Yet, she'd assented. So, he'd be there with the jocks, in limited doses, but would not be one of them. Closing his locker, he decided to call it a win.

Looking quickly at the time on his silver pocket watch, he silently cursed, and headed across the school at a fast jog.

Glee was just getting out. Kurt was pleased: Mr. Schue seemed to be considering some of his suggestions, finally. Kurt congratulated himself on making this task easier: he'd gone for Elton John, knowing Schue had a weakness for 70s rock. He almost jumped up and down, since the role of featured singer on Goodbye,Yellow Brick Road might be his!

"Happy much?"

Kurt smiled at Rachel. Nothing was going to ruin his mood right now, damn it! But he read in her face only friendliness, as she playfully reached up to bat his shoulder.

"Rachel, while no one doubts you could belt out the classic strains of this rock anthem, I think it's safe to say that even Sir Elton would have approved of my performance today." His tone was playful, but he really did mean it. He had freaking _nailed_ it!

"You're right! Yay you!" and with that, she returned to looking for Finn. "Later! Sorry, gotta go, Kurt, bye!"

Finn ambled over to Kurt as he walked down the long hall, towards the parking lot exit. "Hey, dude."

Kurt rolled his eyes. _I am never going to get him to stop that, am I_, he thought. "Finn! Tick tock! If we move it we can make it in time -"

"I know, for the repeat of Project Runway. Dude, no worries. I'm gonna catch a ride with Rachel."

And Finn was gone. All right, Kurt thought. No wonder Rachel had been in such a good mood! He nodded to himself; would these two ever get it right? I mean, figure it out! You like each other, or not. Whatever. Opening the doors to outside, he saw that the parking lot was pretty empty. More importantly, he didn't see anyone he particularly wanted to avoid, and thanked Gaga for that in advance.

Almost at the door of his Navigator, he saw him. Blaine, that kid with the knives and the black leather, looking his way.

**A/N: Surprised? Spoiler, a little: this is a klaine-centric tale, no mistake, but you'll see a lot of other interactions, as in this chapter. Tell me who you liked, anyone you didn't. One promise here, author to reader: no scene is accidental here. Just saying. So, I'd absolutely love to hear from you, really short, or longer. I value all of you readers so much!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Who says authors don't listen to their readers? The people have spoken, and they are evidently in klaine withdrawal! (OK, we all are … the tail end of season 3 was pretty thin gruel, klaine-wise). So, on with our story: remember: as far as Kurt knows, Blaine is scary: so much so that the jocks are giving him a wide berth.**

**As usual, I don't own Glee, or any songs or brand names that may crop up here.**

_Several days later..._

Blaine thought to himself, I got this. This is working. The schoolwork wasn't as hard as Dalton's, he had arranged a sweet deal for access to the workout room, and he knew the rhythm of the days here pretty well. Wes, he smiled, would be proud of that at least: he'd tried hard at Dalton to break him of his tendency to be just a tiny bit late for well, everything. Towards the end of sophomore year, he'd become almost punctual! Looking at his silver pocket watch, his expression instantly darkened: shit! He'd heard Finn say something about Glee getting out a little early today, and had not factored that in.

He made it to the parking lot quickly, trying not to draw attention with sprinting like a crazy person down the halls of McKinley, but then almost instantly regretted this decision. _Oh no_, he sucked in air, starting to run at top speed, this was _not_ happening! At far end of the school building a crowd of tall jocks, loudly laughing, was pushing someone, and then opening up the dumpster nearest the caf. A tall redhead in a hockey uniform shirt hoisted Kurt's upper body, while another grabbed his feet and they threw him over shoulder height into the huge dumpster.

They were already laughing, walking off, when the leader gave the dumpster a thump on the side for good measure. Blaine didn't know what he said, but any thoughts of confronting him were pushed away by the sound of Kurt, screaming that he was bleeding, and he sounded like he was in pain.

"Kurt! I'm gonna get you out of there! Are you OK?" Blaine called frantically, as he opened the dumpster up again. He jumped up to find a way to get him out; the dumpster was mostly empty, so Kurt had had a longer fall. "It's OK, I'm going to get you out of there!"

Blaine looked at the frightened boy in the dim light, who suddenly sobbed, "my leg! It hurts so much, and I'm bleeding a lot!" Blaine leaped down beside him, as Kurt sobbed incoherently and looked like he was hyperventilating. He got a good look at Kurt's left leg now, and was immediately alarmed at how much blood there was, seeping from a jagged cut right next to Kurt's shin. Blaine cursed loudly, wondering what in hell could have caused that? He noticed then that his hand had a cut too, and that the edge of the dumpster was jagged and rusty.

Blaine didn't think: he grabbed Kurt into a hug as he helped him stand up, and Kurt held on while he tried to talk, thanking him for coming to help. Blaine held him for a seconds? Minutes?, rubbing his back as he hoped Kurt would be able to catch his breath, and figure out the best way to get out of the goddamn dumpster. From the way Kurt was holding on, Blaine wasn't sure if his injured leg could bear weight very well.

Kurt took a few deep breaths, and seemed to try to collect himself. He really had thought he might be in there for a while before someone would come get him, at least as long as it might take to call Finn or another friend to get over here. He definitely hadn't expected anyone to jump in basically as soon as the dumpster lid had noisily clanged shut.

"Thank you, damn it, it really hurts a lot, but I think with help I'll be able to get out." With that, he disengaged from … Blaine? Oh my Gaga, he hadn't even looked to see who his rescuer was, he just figured it was probably one of the guys from Glee, Puck maybe, judging by the size and dark clothes. The face searching his belonged to the black-clad, knife-throwing new guy, who also seemed to hang around the parking lot, a lot.

Blaine noticed Kurt was suddenly quiet, looking paler than ever. "Can you call someone? I … I think you need stitches." He tried to detach himself from the sight of the blood that was now drenching Kurt's lower leg. Blaine swallowed, reached for his towel from his workout bag, and eased Kurt's weight to the side of the dumpster. "I'm going to wrap your leg in this, then I'll try to get you out, OK?"

Kurt nodded, silent now. He texted Finn, and was answered right away with his phone ringing out to Journey's Don't Stop Believing. "Finn! Where are you!"

Finn frowned as heard the frightened tone in his soon-to-be step-brother's voice. "Dude, I was in the choir room with Rachel... Kurt, what's wrong? Where are _you_?"

It seemed that Finn was there the next second, receiving Kurt as Blaine lifted him to get out of the high-walled dumpster. He offered his hand to Blaine to get him out too, and saw the bloody towel wrapped around Kurt's leg. "Augh, dude, how bad is that?" Finn looked around to see if any of the perpetrators were around, but quickly turned his attention back to Kurt. "Give me your keys, Kurt; I'm driving you to the hospital. Now."

Kurt leaned heavily on Finn as he dug into his bag and produced the keys to his beloved Navigator. "Finn, Blaine's hand is cut, too."

Finn looked at Blaine with a confused expression furrowing his brow. Rachel materialized beside Finn, looking at Blaine. "Let's see it." Blaine silently turned his hand over, revealing a bleeding tear across it. He seemed to feel it now for the first time, and hissed in pain as she dabbed at it with a t-shirt she produced from her bag. "Finn, Kurt's not the only one who's going to need stitches."

_I need to get out of here, he's going to be fine now_, Blaine thought to himself. The tight connection the three teens in front of him shared was obvious. He didn't know what Kurt was thinking now; he was busy being fussed over by the tall football player and the tiny brunette who'd wrapped his hand. For the moment, he thought he was forgotten, until he felt a hand grasp his shoulder from behind.

"Blaine, you don't know how grateful I am that you heard me, and came in to help me. I … I can't believe you did that. Thank you!" Blaine looked now at Kurt's face; even with eyes fresh from sobbing, he was struck by how beautiful Kurt was. And despite what had just happened to him, this boy was turning attention away from himself, to the stranger who'd climbed in after him. "Finn's going to drive. Come with us, OK?"

Kurt let Finn help him onto the grass, while Finn went to get the car to bring it closer. Rachel called Kurt's dad for him, and arranged to meet at the hospital. She turned to Blaine, quietly sitting beside them. "Is there someone you want me to call for you?"

Blaine stammered, gave his mother's number to Rachel, and didn't know what to say. How had it suddenly become so normal, sitting here beside Kurt on the grass on this warm September day, arranging to go together to the emergency room like it was the most usual thing? He couldn't stop looking at the boy next to him, pale, and (he noticed now) shaking a little bit, as the adrenaline wore off and the pain and outrage of being abused by the hockey players hit him in shock waves. He thought back to when he'd landed there beside him, and gathered the sobbing boy into his arms and held him tightly, comforting him until he could breathe again, like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. The tiny brunette, Rachel, hugged Kurt from the other side, and alternated between outrage at what the hockey players had done and repeated queries as to if Kurt was OK.

Blaine reflected that today's had been the only conversation he'd ever had with Kurt that lasted more than one sentence.

.** A/N: Blaine... White Knight or Bad Boy? I can tell you (tiny spoiler) that Finn hasn't forgotten that Blaine does scary things, like throwing knives. Or intimidating guys much bigger than himself. Next up: Kurt's POV. Sorry this is on the short side, but on the other hand there **_**were**_** two chapters today.**

**As always, I'd love to hear from you. Anyone who reviews (or sends me a PM): you qualify for special sneak previews!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you so much, all of you who have reviewed, PM'd me, or favorited this story. It really does mean a lot to me, and your comments and feedback inspire me – yes, I am looking at _You_, EnglishGleek, loquaciouslauryn, and msdarque. I digress, sorry!**

**We left our guys in bad shape, both of them bleeding … so, here we go.**

**As usual, don't own Glee, or any songs or products you might see mentioned here.**

Finn had been pleasantly surprised when they got to the emergency room – the last time he'd been there, they'd had to wait hours. He silently thanked grilled cheesus that for whatever reason, business had been slow today. Waiting again (but this time in a tiny ER exam room) he reflected on what had happened. Kurt getting thrown in a dumpster wasn't new, it had happened before (and he hated it that he had seen it happen before and not done anything about it; but that was in the past for him). But he'd never gotten a nasty injury from it. Well, except to his wardrobe. Finn frowned at Kurt, sitting on the exam table, frowning but collected, Burt standing nearby. He'd made Kurt tell him the whole story, once Kurt was calm enough to get through it.

Finn was interrupted from his train of thought by Burt's question. "Kurt, tell me again,who was it that helped you get out of that thing?"

Kurt decided to keep it simple. "Blaine. Ah, I don't know his last name. I don't really know him, dad. He just kind of showed up."

Burt looked to Finn for more. "Uh, well, um, he's a transfer student. Just this year, Burt."

Burt nodded. "OK. You said he's here now? He got hurt?"

Kurt answered for Finn, "yeah. Not too bad, I don't think. I think his hand got cut by the same piece of jagged metal that did this" he gestured to his leg, and the ruined slacks, "to me. And my pants."

"Well, the PA said he wouldn't be back for another 15 minutes at least, need time for that local anesthetic to work first." He didn't add out loud, before you get a whole bunch of stitches. "I'll be right back. I just want to thank him." Kurt nodded his approval, and with that Burt left Kurt, Finn, and Rachel alone.

"Finn, thanks."

"What for, Kurt?"

Kurt arched an eyebrow at the gangly teen. "I think we both know what for. For not giving dad any more information than he strictly needed to have."

"Well, right, dude. Goes without saying!" No way Finn was going to tell Burt that, oh, by the way, Blaine looked like he was straight out of juvie, and by the way, had excellent aim and precision at throwing knives. And Finn was pretty sure, wearing them. Several. He didn't think Kurt knew _that_, and wasn't about to tell him, or Burt. Frankly, Finn didn't know what to do about it, so he had done nothing, so far.

Burt was glad the nurse he talked to knew Carole; though he thought it maybe would have been OK anyway to tell him where to find the boy he was looking for. "Right over there, Burt, room 23."

The curtain was drawn for that room, so Burt stood there awkwardly for a moment before announcing, "Hi! Ah, is this where I can find Blaine?"

Blaine was waiting for his mom, who would be there very soon, he knew. They'd looked at his hand, which now had a wad of gauze pressed to it, held in place by his uninjured hand. The voice calling was unfamiliar, and Blaine knew enough of hospital life (the people treating him tended to barge right in, some of them announcing themselves prior, some not) to know this probably wasn't anyone here to treat him. He welcomed the distraction, however. "That's me. It's OK to come in."

"Thanks." Burt pushed the curtain aside a little as he let himself into the examination room. Really? This kid looked like the second coming of Ozzy Osbourne, all black clothes, chains, motorcycle boots, and slicked black hair. He smiled; didn't matter – Kurt and Finn were both clear on what this kid's involvement in the story was; he'd jumped into the high-walled dumpster and comforted and helped his son get out of it. End of story. "Um, Blaine, I'd shake your hand, but, well..." he smiled, and was met with a smile and nod from the boy, "I wanted to take a minute and thank you. What you did back there was really great, it means a lot to me."

"You're welcome, sir. It was the least I could do. I just wish I'd been there 30 seconds sooner!" Burt felt bad that the kid really did look upset at this.

"That means you saw who did it though, right?"

"Yes, sir. I don't know their names, but I did see them. I would have gone after them, but Kurt sounded like he was in trouble." Burt narrowed his eyes. Was this kid blaming himself? What would have happened if he'd tried to confront the hockey players, completely out numbered?

"Kid! Don't think like that! I just meant, you could provide a second eye witness account, to get them expelled or something." Burt looked with concern on the teen. Damn. He knew that look. He looked just like Kurt did, when an attempt to comfort had bounced right off. OK, he thought to himself, another time on that. "How's that hand holding up?"

Blaine winced, reminded again of how much it stung, freshly cleaned by the nurse who'd just left. "They said I need some stitches. Not as bad as Kurt's leg, I think."

Burt frowned. "Yeah. Well, I just wanted to thank you again, kid. You did a really important thing for my son there, and I won't forget that. Hope your hand heals up fast."

"Thanks." Blaine had found Burt's appearance a little intimidating in the beginning, but found himself liking the guy. That's Kurt's dad? Gee, Kurt must've inherited his looks from his mom – the guy didn't look like Kurt at all! He wondered where Kurt's mom was, but figured maybe she was in the room with Kurt or something. He hoped his own mom got here soon. He didn't want to admit it, but he really wanted her there.

"See you later, Blaine." And with that, Burt was gone.

_Later that evening …_

"Kurt! If you're gonna fuss that much, why didn't you just stay home like Burt told you to!" Finn sighed in frustration as he navigated JC Penney with an aggravated, slow-moving Kurt by his side.

"Really, Finn? I shouldn't be cranky, walking through this godawful place in these godawful shorts with a fucking crutch! No, you're right, I shouldn't be fussing _at all!_" Finn sighed as Kurt delivered a bitch glare at him. They were near the shoes section, and he found a stool, and motioned to Kurt to sit.

"Kurt. You're gonna have to wear that brace for a while, you hurt the ligaments in that leg pretty bad. And those skinny jeans you love? You can't wear them with that!" Finn sighed. He'd been over this already with Kurt, and thought he'd had a perfectly good plan; help his brother-to-be find some pants to wear that could accommodate the brace; and he thought some nice cargo pants was a good solution.

Kurt didn't want to admit it, but he felt instantly better sitting down. He looked up at Finn. Finn, who had for some reason volunteered for this thankless job. And had a reasonable solution to this current fashion conundrum. He was embarrassed: Finn hadn't deserved the bitch glare. It wasn't his fault he was hurt, and it wasn't his fault he wouldn't take any pain meds stronger than ibuprofen. It hurt, and maybe he should have stayed home after all. "Finn. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that -"

"No, it's OK, dude, I get it -"

"let me finish, Finn. It's really nice that you're wiling to do this. And I hate to say it, but your solution is not a bad one." He broke into a wry smile and continued, "but I hope you understand, that I just could _not_ let you dress me. That would be too damn much!"

They shared a quiet laugh, tension alleviated.

"How about this? Stay there, I'll get a few," he looked down at the measurements in his hand, "and you can choose and stuff. OK?"

"I think we can make it work." Finn was pleased to hear Kurt's breezy tone back. He sounded much more like himself.

"Sweet. Be right back, dude." And with that, Finn disappeared into the racks.

Kurt said a quiet, "cool, _dude_" to his retreating form. No, there was no way he'd ever break Finn out of his "dude" habit. Maybe, he reflected, Finn would someday grow out of it.

_Back at the hospital …_

"Blaine, I got here as soon as I could. Oh, honey." Blaine was happy to let himself be engulfed in his mom's arms. He felt much better having her here.

"You didn't get in a fight or anything, sweetie?" Her brow was furrowed, as she wondered what had happened. She regretted for the thousandth time that he was not at Dalton. Not now, she told herself. This is not the time for that, she chided herself, knowing very well it would keep her awake tonight.

"No, mom, nothing like that. I was helping a kid get out of a dumpster," he noted her frown at this, "and the edge of the thing was rusty and jagged. I didn't notice at the time."

"How bad is it?" She looked down, seeing how one hand was wrapped around the other, with blood stained gauze under it. Something else nagged at her as she looked at him closely. "Honey, you don't look good." Why was he so pale? Without consciously directing her hand to do it, she felt his forehead. "Sweetie! You're burning up!"

**A/N: Sorry, no direct klaineness here. Forgive me! But I'd love your feedback; if you have a favorite bit of this chapter, what was it? I know what mine was. Later, friends! If you get a moment, I'd love to hear from you – PM or review, whatever you like best.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you, readers who are still here, and especially those of you who've reviewed, favorited, or PM'd me. I've been so encouraged by you!**

**Glee? Powerade? Whatever else... don't own 'em.**

"Well, looking at your throat, and your lab results, it looks like a pretty typical case of strep, maybe just beginning." The PA looked over her glasses as she addressed her patient. "Fortunately, it should clear up pretty quickly once the antibiotic kicks in. The damage to your hand is superficial – so the good news there is that once the sutures are out, you should be able to resume most activities pretty quickly."

Blaine tuned out the discharge instructions. He'd gotten a first dose of the antibiotic, his hand was sore but not as bad as before, and he was relieved to find his dexterity intact; it just felt kind of tight. Now that everything had settled down, he admitted to himself that he did feel pretty lousy, and couldn't wait to get home and crash on the couch. He was curious about Kurt, but knew he had plenty of people with him.

The ride over to the hospital had been awkward for him. He'd sat in the front passenger seat next to Finn, and Rachel stayed close to Kurt all the way over, trying in turns to soothe and distract him. Finn had tried some small talk with him at first, but had given up pretty quickly, so they'd completed the short drive in silence. They'd thanked him over and over; he didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell them that he'd been on the lookout for just such a thing, and had failed to prevent it – how to explain his recent actions, how he'd worked his schedule to mirror Kurt's, without sounding creepy? How to explain that he knew too well how it felt to be bullied, how awful and isolating it felt, and that he felt compelled to try to shield Kurt. Lastly, how to tell them all that he wished _he_ was in the back seat, to be there for Kurt, that he thought Kurt was the most beautiful boy he'd ever known. That especially – there was no way to share that.

Not, he reflected, that these two, Finn and Rachel, would probably have a problem with that. They clearly accepted Kurt. Kurt, who was so clearly out, and didn't try to blend in. Who wore amazing outfits to school and looked _so_ amazing wearing them. Blaine had never intended to pretend he was straight at McKinley; so far he just hadn't given any indication to anyone. The girls might have eyed him from a distance, but joined the boys in keeping their distance. Kurt was the only out kid that he had picked up on; how lonely was that? Before today, he'd helped Kurt to his feet once (the first day of school), and that was it for contact.

Holding the sobbing boy in the dumpster? Well, he reflected, it just felt right at the time. Must have been, since Kurt did calm down enough then to be able to call for help and allow himself to be helped out of there. He wished he could talk to Kurt alone, but at the same time was grateful for the couple with them right now. He sighed, noticing the gash on his hand as it started to throb, and decided to just keep quiet.

_Later that night …_

Blaine ran to the bathroom, heaving again. His mom was worried; he was supposed to have this antibiotic three times a day, and it didn't seem to be going well. She followed him, handing him a fresh cold wet washcloth as the heaving subsided.

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry." She crouched beside him until he stood up.

"Thanks, mom. I don't think there's anything left. But I think the medicine went down there too." He shook his head. He hated taking pills; these ones had him feeling much worse than before. He absently allowed his mom to fuss over him, accepted the fever reducer and drink by the side of his bed, and fell into a restless sleep.

He felt like total crap in the morning. Then he noticed the time: 10:53! how had he slept through his alarm? Then his mom came in to check on him.

"Blaine, so glad you're awake. How're you feeling, honey?" Her hand migrated to his foreheard, and he was rewarded with a small smile. "Well, that's a little better. Here," she offered him another pill, a different color than the last one.

"No, mom, I don't think that's a good idea"

"It should be OK. I talked to the doctor, got a different prescription this morning and popped out to fill it. That and I got you a bunch of flavors of Powerade."

He could see that she wasn't going to give up. "Mom? What are you doing here? I mean, I figured out that I missed school, but ..."

"It's OK. I'm going to stay until at least lunch time, make sure you can eat a little and keep it down. Come on, I made banana bread, and I've got the DVDs out for a Disney marathon."

"Mom, you're the best." He hugged her, and was glad for a second she couldn't see his face, as he felt his eyes mist up a bit. He settled in with her to watch Hercules, and she stayed until after 1:00. By then, he was able to credibly assure her that he'd be fine for a few hours, and promised to keep drinking. She found him asleep on the couch when she came home from work, in the same position she'd left him in.

_Earlier that morning..._

Burt was livid. This went way beyond slushies and drive-by locker slams; they even had an additional witness if they wanted it: that Blaine kid had seen it happen.

"Rick and the three other boys are suspended for two days, Mr. Hummel. And barred from extracurricular activities until the end of the month." Figgins moved some papers around on his desk, not really wanting to look at the angry parent in front of him.

"Really? That's the best you can do? Kurt's leg is torn up and could've been worse!"

"Mr. Hummel, I appreciate that you're frustrated, but it's not like they beat him or used a weapon on him. They're sticking to their story – a youthful prank -"

"That is so totally bullshit! Why isn't anyone calling it what it is, a hate crime! How can you expect me to feel safe sending my son to try to learn here!"

Figgins looked up at Burt Hummel. He really did sympathize; but the school board refused to see what had happened as that big a deal. He sighed before speaking to him. "I did get them to change the rules, but it applies to future offenses only. The students are being informed in their home room classes today that throwing anyone in a dumpster will be counted the same as an assault, which has defined penalties. Furthermore, the dumpsters are now locked before the end of the school day, and will remain so until the morning each day." He got up, walked over to Burt, who seemed to be listening now, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I really am deeply sorry."

That same day...

Dave Karofsky was secretly thrilled by the new rules: he didn't really enjoy throwing people in the dumpsters anymore. He frowned, waiting for the teacher to explain, wondering what had caused this sudden amendment to the code of conduct.

"Sorry, Dave, confidentiality and all that. Let's just say a student was hurt and leave it at that."

He'd accepted that, until he saw Kurt walking stiffly through the halls, wearing cargo pants, and walking slower than normal. That and the sassy girl from Glee at his side was carrying all her own books as well as his.

"Mercedes, it's my leg, not my arms or my back. Give me back my books."

"Hell to the no, Hummel! Look at how you're lurching around here! Just be quiet and let me help you for once without whining about it!" With a free finger she'd swatted his shoulder. "Didn't Finn say something about you using a crutch?"

"What's up." Kurt looked up. Karofsky was blocking his path in the hallway. Kurt breathed a sigh of relief, not seeing a slushie in his hands, and since he hadn't been slammed into a locker yet maybe that wasn't about to happen either. "I said, Hummel, what's up."

Kurt furrowed his brow. "Um, I'm going to be late to class, I'm pretty sure?"

"Don't be cute. What's wrong with you?" Dave's voice was flat, and his gaze showed interest but didn't look threatening.

"Bad trip into a dumpster. Gotta go."

"Not so fast. Spill. You've got an athletic brace on your leg. You're limping. Details, now. Who?"

Kurt just didn't know where this was coming from. Was he annoyed someone else (besides him and his football cronies) picked on him? Why the sudden concern? He quickly decided, as Mercedes was shooting a pleading look at him, now worried about the class they were definitely going to be late to, to tell him what he wanted to know. Why not? "Rick the Stick, and his wingman Brian, and those two other guys who always hang with them."

Kurt looked on in confusion as Karofsky just nodded, got out of their way, and walked off down the hall.

As they were stowing their gear after football practice he heard Carl ask Finn how Kurt was doing.

"He's going to be OK, man, but his leg was messed up, tons of blood and stitches and stuff, and he needs to wear a brace for a while 'coz he really did a number on the ligament when he fell. He's tough, in his own way, you know; I mean, that must hurt like hell, but he insisted on coming to school today."

Dave slammed the locker next to him noisily. A two day suspension? Barred from extracurriculars till the end of the month? Who cares! It's not hockey season, so that was pretty meaningless. He tried to even out his breathing, not wanting to draw attention just then. But that was it. Rick the Stick and his idiot friends were lucky they weren't around today; he felt like he could cheerfully beat them to a pulp.

**A/N: We've learned a little more about some of the principle characters, and see that Kurt is managing in his very Kurt way. This was a quiet chapter, I know; the next one won't be. Really.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you to all of you following, reviewing, or encouraging me with your kind messages. I love hearing from you, and am inspired to write more! So, without further ado (really pressed for time here! I will admit to unseemly haste tonight, so forgive me any typos, please!)**

…

_The next day …_

Coach Beiste approached Mike Chang as the guys were finishing up getting their gear on for practice.

"Mike? I see you're in several of Blaine Anderson's classes."

Mike looked up from lacing his cleats up, looking expectantly at his coach. "Yeah, that's true. What's up, Coach?"

Shannon Beiste smiled at Mike. Not the best football player on the squad, though definitely respectable. And unlike some of her players, she never had to worry about him facing academic probation – a worry she was glad to be free of. "He's out sick, missed a couple days. Can you get his assignments to him?"

She noted Mike's lightly furrowed brow. "Ah, Coach, it's not like we're buddies or anything. I mean, I have no idea where he lives, and don't know if he'd be OK with that ..."

"His mother requested this, Mike. He's new here, so this is harder for him. I figured you'd be willing to help him out." She knew Blaine's appearance put people off. But this was a routine thing in her mind; reluctant or not, he was on her team. And all her players had come to learn how much she valued teamwork.

"Sure. I'll do it, Coach. Tonight, after practice."

She smiled at him. "Knew I could count on you. I gotta go talk to Finn; he's in Blaine's other class; the only one we're not covering is gym, and he's got nothing to worry about there."

Mike studied the address on the piece of paper Coach had handed him. He wondered what had happened to Blaine; he didn't seem sick last time he'd seen him. And then he rushed out onto the football field, not wanting to be last out there.

"Finn!"

The tall quarterback looked up. "Coach! Sorry, I ran right here, I just had an errand to do for Mr. Shue – "

"No worries, Finn. So, Blaine's out sick, and his mother called. Mike Chang is handling getting him his assignments for the classes they're in, but there's one that you've got together. Do you mind dropping off a copy of this?" She held up the geography homework she'd gotten from Mr. Case.

Finn shrugged. He didn't figure geography homework was that big a deal; Mr. Case didn't have the tough late homework penalties most teachers had. He knew that for a fact; he knew that if he needed to procrastinate on something, that was his safest bet. He had no idea where Blaine lived, or how it would be to go to his house: he was grateful, very much so, for helping Kurt, but for whatever reason the guy didn't talk to him on the ride to the hospital. And, the scary knife thing and all … "Sure, Coach. Tell me what to do." Whatever. He gathered his gear, stashed the paper with the address, and donned it in record time to get out on the field.

_At the end of practice …_

It was known that access to the training gym was limited. Dave Karofsky felt good – practice had been hard, but they were getting their moves down. He began to have hope that the coming season would be better than last year's. He half listened as the guys went on and on about the new X Box game they were going to buy the latest release of this Friday night, but his attention was diverted to the not-deserted gym.

"What the hell are you assholes doing here!" Dave charged none other than Rick the Stick and his buddies.

"You need someone to show you how to use this stuff?" The tall redheard feigned helpfulness. "Poor guys, maybe if you knew how to use it you wouldn't be such losers out on the -"

"Shut the fuck up!" Dave's loud yell attracted the attention of the squad as they slipped into the adjacent locker room. Pushing Rick hard in the chest, he went on, "you know damn well you're not supposed to be here! You're not even supposed to be on school grounds, let alone _here_!"

"Awww... is the widdle wee football player scared of us -"

Dave made an incomprehensible growl, and pushed Rick outside. No matter how mad he got, he knew better than to deck Rick in Coach's domain. "Get the hell out!"

Finn heard the yelling, and his outrage matched Dave's. Who did they think they were? They were responsible for Kurt's injury, they were suspended, and they were also banned from the gym. He didn't care what they thought they were doing, they were going _down_!

Sam and Puck caught up to Finn as he closely followed Karofsky, who was still bellowing at Rick, with his cronies looking on laughing. Finn caught up as Karofsky landed a solid blow to Rick's face. Judging by the mocking expression he still wore, it caught him by surprise.

Coach Beiste looked up from her office, hearing the scuffle going on outside.

"What the hell is going on out here!" Puck landed one more blow to a sandy-haired hockey player, and the action died down as the Coach reached in to separate the fiercest action: Karofsky looked like he was about to throttle the captain of the hockey team, and Finn had pinned down the co-captain and looked murderous. "Stop it! NOW!"

Shannon Beiste separated the cursing, shoving young men and tried to piece together what was going on. While they were separated, but yelling over each other, she was joined by Sue Sylvester, who'd overhead from the field on the other side of the building.

"Stick Boy." She sneered at Rick. "Why are you here?"

The boys had finally stopped yelling. There were bruises all around, it looked like. Rick's face looked the worst of the group, but the teen managed to glare haughtily at the two coaches.

"Good question," the football coach continued. "You're already suspended. So all four of you have just lengthened your suspensions. And then you come here and pick a fight with my football team?"

_While Finn was driving Kurt home..._

"Oh, and Coach is having me drop off homework and stuff tonight for Blaine. He's been sick a few days."

Kurt stared over at Finn. "What? How long has that been going on?"

Finn shrugged. "Haven't seen him since, you know." he gestured at Kurt's leg. It didn't really even dawn on me until yesterday.

Kurt _had_ noticed. But he'd had no one to ask, and no way to ask it. How do you say, hey? Anyone seen that scary guy who sort of hangs around a lot? "How do you know this?"

"Coach Beiste told me, and Mike Chang, that his mother called and asked if someone would do this. You know how Coach is; she's always on top of us. In a good way, I mean! That's all I know."

Kurt wondered what was wrong with him; sure, his hand had needed some stitches, but that didn't explain this. He hadn't called for himself; would he even welcome the help? But then Kurt reflected that he never saw Blaine talking to anyone (well, he'd seen Quinn talk to him that one time, but that was it). He looked tough, no question. But was he lonesome? He looked as isolated as Kurt himself had once been. Mike was a senior; he, Finn, and Blaine were juniors. Kurt knew Mike had a killer course load, tough math and science classes, with a side order of AP history. Now _that_ was interesting – he wondered how it was that Blaine was taking that kind of course mix.

"Finn, before you go, I'm going to wrap up some of Carole's brownies to send along to him. Oh, and some of my iced tea."

Finn raised his eyebrows. He was learning that Kurt didn't always ask, sometimes he just ordered. "Uh, are you -"

"Finn. It's the least we can do. I mean, you're going over there anyway." Kurt's expression was firm.

Finn smiled over at Kurt. "You got it. Do you think maybe mom will make us some extra brownies? You know, to replace the ones we're giving away?"

"Probably. If it gets you _to promise not to eat them on the way over there_."

Finn smirked at Kurt. "Deal, dude."

**A/N: Sorry! Not much time tonight, but I didn't want to make you wait too long! Remember, reviews, PM s and favorites are like Red Vines (what can't the do?) … off to work the night shift soon, folks!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Starting here, if there's a character-specific recipe that I think is of interest to you, it will show up in the _end_ author's note. And this chapter will have the first of them.**

**Fanservice much? Guilty! At least in this chapter. I've literally changed how this was going to happen (the first draft, and second, etc., the one that exists in my head) was scratched because y'all were pining for some klaine.**

**Thank you to my reviewers, loquaciouslauryn, DancingIntheRayne, tragicwhisper, msdarque, ImJustDefyingGravityx3 , and some PM folks as well. And thank you, too, all those following the story or honoring me with favoriting. I think you're pretty swell too :-) Sorry this has taken longer than I'd like, but more soon!**

Burt stormed into the kitchen. It didn't matter that the boys clearly thought they hadn't been overheard, Finn had some explaining to do, and so did Kurt, for not keeping him in the loop.

"Finn, tell me _exactly_ why it is that Kurt is congratulating you on the fact that you are not suspended right now." Burt had all but growled at his soon-to-be stepson, his tone low and his delivery clear and very slow.

Finn exchanged a worried look with Kurt, whose eyebrows had shot up, and the boy suddenly looked even paler than usual. Finn drew in a long breath, then looked squarely at Burt. "I might've been in a fight today -"

"Cut the crap, Finn. Whatever it is, just tell me." Finn gained courage, noting that Burt looked a little less scary now.

"Ah, OK. I didn't start it, sir, but I probably would have if I'd heard what that bastard Rick said!"

Burt looked angry and puzzled at the same time. "Wait! Are we talking about that bully that threw Kurt in the dumpster! Why was he even on school grounds!"

Kurt observed his father getting red now, and reflexively pleaded, "Dad. It's OK. Can you sit down?"

He did sit, as Finn continued. "Exactly. Karofsky saw him and his friends, yes, the same ones from the other day, hanging out in our workout room after practice was over. I didn't see that part, but Karofsky started yelling at them, and they took it outside. I was totally with him on this – they had no right to be there! And besides I still wanted to flatten that jerk for what he did, he wasn't even sorry!"

Finn's color matched Burt's now; recollecting this story brought back all his outrage at what had happened. Burt was in listening mode now, and nodded for Finn to continue.

"I followed them, and well, it happened really fast. Mike and Sam came too, maybe some others, I don't know. Karofsky was on Rick when I got there, and I was fighting his best friend. Then Coach and Coach Sylvester were there, yelling at us and breaking up the fight."

"Did you get hurt at all?"

"Not really, just bruises and stuff. It was over really fast. Anyway, the coaches were pretty mad they were breaking suspension, figured they were hanging around to start trouble – which they totally were! – and we got off, the football players I mean. I mean, there were witnesses, and all. So, their suspensions got longer, and they can't play sports until at least November!"

Carole had joined them by the end of this, but let her husband-to-be finish this before jumping in. She loved him for lots of reasons, but was always amazed at how good he was with the boys. He was so natural with Finn, it was like he was his second son. She showed him she was here, laying a hand on his back and lightly massaging the tension she found there.

Burt smiled at them all. "You done good, kid. I know it's not like you go getting in fights every day, and those idiots really did have it coming. What the hell were they thinking?" He shook his head; he didn't know, then decided he didn't care at that moment. "I'm glad you're OK, and not in trouble." He turned his gaze to his son. "Kurt, you OK? How's that leg?"

Kurt smiled at his dad. "I'm all right, don't worry. I mean, yeah, it's stiff and hurts and all, but I can manage." Scowling at Finn, he went on, "which is why I want to go with you. I can rest later!"

Carole got up and and stretched up to hug her son. "Where you going, sweetie?"

"Coach asked me to take a packet of assignments to Blaine; he's been out of school for days -"

"Isn't that the kid that helped Kurt?"

"Yeah. Anyway, I told Coach sure, I'd do it, and Kurt wanted to send over some of your brownies, mom, if that's OK, and Kurt is sending some of his special iced tea."

Carole smiled. Both these boys were so sweet in their own ways. She kissed her son's cheek, and reassured him, "you don't have to ask. I'll make some more after dinner."

"Thanks, mom, you're the best!" Finn looked much happier, knowing the brownies would be replenished.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Kurt? Finn can handle this on his own." Burt addressed his son.

"Well, I'm just grateful to him, and wanted to thank him again, and wish him well." Kurt spoke openly, hiding anything else that might be there from everyone there.

"What's wrong with him? Do you guys know?"

Finn spoke up. "Coach just said his mom had called, that he was sick, but getting better. And his mom wanted him to be able to catch up."

_Some time later …_

Kurt sat beside Finn, on the way to Blaine's house. He wondered for the thousandth time what the story was behind his rescuer. His rescuer with the dreamy eyes, sexy voice, and horrible fashion choices. Oh, and the knives thing. Finn hadn't given this much thought, but he had: Blaine was a junior, like them, and was in one class with Finn. However, he shared classes with brainiac Mike Chang, a senior; tough math and science courses. No wonder he hadn't seen him much in classes, he thought; it made sense now: Blaine was carrying a mostly senior load, in advanced classes. He wished again that he'd been able to pay more attention when Blaine showed up unexpectantly: he'd sobbed all over the guy, who'd held and comforted him, and he hadn't even realized who he was crying on at the time! And he'd seen Blaine on the way to his car at the end of the day more than once. Once he'd gotten over worrying that Blaine was maybe his newest bully (he'd had the opportunity, lots of them, and hadn't done anything like that) he'd chalked it up to possible coincidence: his practices just seemed to finish when his own day did.

Kurt had to admit that today he'd jumped at the chance to join Finn, and had suggested the brownies and his tea. Finn hadn't objected to the gesture, if there was one thing he could understand it was food, and what would be a better way to encourage a guy to feel better?

Kurt didn't have much time to think about this, as Finn pulled into the driveway of the small, neat little home.

_Earlier that day …_

"Honey, I'm glad you're finally starting to feel better." Blaine's mom bent down to hug her son. "Do I need to pick up anything on the way home?"

"No, mom, I think we're good. Just how much Powerade do you think a guy can drink?" He smiled at her teasingly. They had a huge stock of the stuff, and he was tired of it, but wouldn't tell her that, of course.

"Well, you look like you're ready to start catching up on your homework." He nodded, agreeing. "I called your football coach to arrange -"

"Mom! Why would you do that! I could have asked Justin -"

"Blaine. When you joined the team, I kept the parental notice that came with the permission slip. Your coach said if you have to miss practices for whatever reason, to let her know. She also said she'd arrange for missing work to be made up with the teachers, if needed. I don't know how they managed to get such a dedicated coach, but I took her word ..."

Blaine groaned, looking down into his lap. He'd told his mom a lot about his new school. For one, she asked every day. But more importantly, she really did care, and was genuinely supportive. So, she knew he wasn't too enthused about mixing with the football team, and really confined himself to his kicker role. Unlike his father, his mother was supportive of his orientation. She was his biggest supporter in his lucrative part time job, and he knew he wouldn't have the gigs he did without her and her social network. She wasn't crazy about his wardrobe choices nowadays, but did allow it as long as he agreed to abide by her rules: no piercings without prior permission, no tattoos, no smoking or drugs. Other things, she'd decided, she could live with.

Looking at her son, she guessed at what was bothering him, but decided to continue. "Blaine, she was so nice. And she said she knew just the teammate to talk to. Mike Chang, he's in a few of your classes. Honey, don't you think it's time to start trying to make some friends?"

Mike Chang. Well, he thought, the guy seemed nice. Polite, smart student, clean cut. And so, predictably, had had nothing to do with him outside of classes. Well, it could be good. "Mom, it's OK. You're probably right." Looking up, he favored her with a small smile. "Thanks, mom."

_Early evening..._

They'd agreed to order pizza tonight; Blaine suspected his mom was just happy he was feeling better and that his appetite was returning; she'd given in pretty easily, even allowing him to order pepperoni _and_ sausage. He'd put the order in and returned to idly watching the end of Mulan, when he heard the doorbell.

"I'll get it honey, no problem!" his mom's voice rang out.

Blaine headed to the kitchen to get the plates and glasses out for their dinner, and heard his mother say, "yes! You did surprise me! But please, come right in!"

Finn covered his mouth to repress the laugh that almost snuck out, seeing Blaine's mom almost crash into Blaine, who was now right behind her. She kind of reminded him of Rachel; little and energetic, and very friendly.

Kurt looked past Blaine's mom (who was tiny, and adorable) to Blaine. If he hadn't known he was already in the right house, he would have questioned it: there he was, curly hair, glasses with chunky black frames, in sweats and a purple v-necked tee, barefoot. He looked so different, but clearly it really was him – and Kurt felt almost weak in the knees, he looked so gorgeous somehow, and vulnerable.

"Blaine! I didn't see you there! Finn, from your football team, is here, and Kurt is here too." She smiled at the boys still standing at the doorway, and moved to let them in.

"I've got the assignments for Blaine, Mrs. Anderson, and we brought a couple of things as well,"

"Yes, we brought Finn's mom's brownies, and my special blend iced tea." Kurt finished for Finn, and started wishing he could sit, anywhere; his leg really did hurt.

"Wow! That's really nice – thank you!" Blaine's face lighted up, seeing the brownies, and his mom accepted the iced tea from Finn's hand. He felt naked, out of costume, really: these guys had only ever seen him in his McKinley clothes, and he thought this outfit wasn't with that image at all. Oh well, he thought, didn't people usually look different at home, basically lounging around in pajamas? Kurt is _in my house_!

Finn followed Blaine into the living room to hand over the homework and talk for about their class. Kurt followed Blaine's mom into the kitchen, and gratefully sunk into a chair.

Christine Anderson noticed that Kurt was limping. Kids, she thought, maybe this was a sports injury? "Is your leg all right?"

"Getting better, thanks. I've got a brace on it, just for a while. Don't worry about me."

She thought his eyes were very pretty, and she noticed his well coiffed hair. He looked like he'd fit right in at Dalton, she thought with a sigh. "Well, Kurt, I think I'll transfer this tea to our own pitcher so I can give you this nice one you brought back." She got out glasses and ice. "I think maybe this would be nice to share right away, what do you think?"

Kurt thought, she is so easy to be with, and that her son had her beautiful eyes. He just smiled and nodded his approval.

Minutes later Blaine and Finn looked up from discussing Call of Duty to the sight of his mom, carrying a tray with glasses of iced tea, and the brownies and some napkins. "I think, just this once, we can have dessert before dinner," she said playfully.

"This iced tea, it's like the best I've ever had!" Blaine wasn't kidding, the flavor was great, and went down quickly. "I'm getting a refill, be back in a sec."

Kurt was still in the kitchen; he'd accepted his glass there, and had been thinking about maybe joining the others when Blaine came in. "More tea already?"

"Yeah! This stuff is awesome!" Blaine grinned.

"I'm really glad you like it," Kurt said softly.

"You – _you_ made this? For me?" Blaine was surprised, but looking at Kurt's modest expression, and sudden penumbra of pink in his face, he knew that he had.

"I did. My own special blend."

"You could bottle this or something. What's in it?"

Kurt smiled mysteriously. "Well, you're lucky today. It's a little different every time." He smiled, thinking of the Baron, who also loved making tea. "A few black tea bags, some green tea, just a bit of sugar, and fresh mint from the garden – orange mint, I think."

Blaine loved hearing Kurt's voice. This was the most relaxed he'd ever seen him. He watched as Kurt's color faded back to its normal pale tone, and he loved the sparkle in his eyes, which looked more greenish blue than blue in this light. He frowned at the uncharacteristic bulky cargo pants. "How's the leg?"

Kurt tried to be casual. "Getting better. I hate the damn brace, but at least that's temporary." His eyes met Blaine's directly here as he continued softly, "I am still so thankful for what you did. You have no idea."

_It's time to take a chance_, Blaine thought to himself. Narrowing his eyes unconsciously, he answered, "you'd be surprised. I've been bullied pretty badly in the past. There's no way I would have left you there."

"I see. I'm so sorry." Kurt was momentarily unable to think of anything else to say. This beautiful, vulnerable boy in front of him really seemed like a different person from the swaggering badass he appeared to be at McKinley. "I think most people wouldn't guess that, looking at you."

Blaine grabbed a chair, angled it towards Kurt, and sat close beside him. Reaching across the table, he laid a hand on Kurt's arm. Smiling impishly, he said, "sometimes things aren't exactly what they seem."

**A/N: As promised, here's a little extra content for all of you readers! First, Kurt is thinking of the scene in The Cat Returns, where the Baron, a dapper fellow, makes tea for his guest, and comments that he's happy she likes her tea, since he makes it a little differently every time. If you haven't seen that movie, you may like it, it's anime, but very accessible.**

**Now, Kurt's tea! Well, actually, it's my tea. Boil about 4 cups of water. I use a ceramic pitcher for this step: pour water, once it's come to a boil, into pitcher (holds about 2 quarts) which has in it 2 black tea bags (in the US, standard Lipton type or whatever) and 3 green tea bags. Add a large handful of fresh mint leaves, lightly crushed before adding them (you can just crush them in your hands). Stir. Add 1/3 cup of sugar or to taste (I recommend starting with a small amount, you'd be surprised, you really don't have to add tons). Allow to cool and steep for 30 mins or so. Add cold water, remove tea bags and mint. (at this time I often transfer the tea into a lidded plastic container to put in the fridge). Why the two pitchers? I don't like putting boiling water into plastic.**

**More recipes will crop up in future chapters!**

**Please review if you'd like to share your thoughts with me. Feedback is so welcome! Do you like the idea of recipes, if they crop up?**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Dear friends, I am so touched by your reviews, messages, and those who're following/favoriting this story (casual readers? Hey! You're very welcome too!). **

**So, would this be a badboy story without any bad in it? I'm all for truth in advertising, so here we go, without further ado. More later, at the endnote of this chapter! Language alert: yup, bad at times. Just so you know.**

**And, I sooo need to say this now (you'll see why later); no, I do not own Glee; but any dialogue I borrow here is done with love, so don't sue.**

Blaine surveyed the homework assignments after Finn and Kurt left. Not too bad, he thought; he wasn't as behind as he might have been, since some of the math and science was predictable and he'd worked off the syllabi. He'd been struck by how _normal_ this little visit had seemed. Finn was pretty easy to talk to – he seemed genuinely decent, had asked about his hand right away, and they'd found themselves discussing the games that were out in plain view in front of the flatscreen and X-Box setup.

He was glad to see that Kurt was looking like he was managing okay. The image of the pained, bleeding boy from the last time he'd seen him was replaced now by the boy he'd chatted with _in his kitchen_, of all places: more relaxed, hints of a snarky humor showing after a few minutes, and concerned for him (even though Blaine protested that his hand and throat, with subsequent complications of unknown medication sensitivities was not much compared to the injury Kurt was starting to recover from). More than that, he'd had the chance to study him for longer than ever. He could barely tear his gaze away from Kurt's beautiful and very expressive eyes (but he'd done so a few times, conscious of not wanting to freak him out by staring too long). He thought it was so cute, the way Kurt blushed when he'd complimented his tea (which really had been the best he'd ever had, he wasn't overstating there). And even in the loose khaki cargo pants he wore to accommodate the brace, the long lines of his body still managed to communicate grace and beauty.

"Blaine! Pizza's finally here!"

How did he not hear any of that? What, did they send pizza ninjas from that place in town? No, he chuckled to himself, ninjas wouldn't usually be so _late_ with his order! "Coming, mom!"

_Later that night …_

Blaine groaned, looking at the time, having finally decided to go to sleep. He'd convinced his mom he'd be fine to go to school tomorrow, was happy at the prospect of seeing Kurt again. His mom had chatted happily over pizza at dinner; she really had liked both boys very much. He guessed she probably was congratulating herself on how well her plan had worked. He was glad, for her. She tried so hard to be strong, but he knew that she blamed herself for that fact that he was no longer at Dalton, and worried about him no matter what he said.

_A week later..._

Not a good morning. At all, Kurt added mentally. He'd had to hustle to get to class on time in the morning (Finn didn't seem to get it that he needed a little more time, as his leg was still sore and stiff) and the history teacher had tossed a withering glance his way as he snuck in barely on time. After that class, Azimio had slushied him, this time in bright red. "Someone needs some school spirit!" he'd quipped, as he threw it at Kurt, and his cronies had laughed like it was the wittiest joke ever.

He'd changed and cleaned up, resigned to the possibility long ago, so had his backup shirt on. He was just on his way to the fourth class of the day when he'd stopped for a minute to chat with Mercedes. She'd left, and then it happened – a rough slam into the lockers, courtesy of Karofsky. His balance was still off from his leg injury, so he'd fallen to the floor, landing on his hurt leg.

Bang! He turned to the very close, very loud slam. "What the fuck are you doing? What did Kurt ever do to _you_!" Before he could answer, Blaine had grabbed the bigger boy's red jacket, and slammed him hard, again.

"Get off! What the hell, Anderson! You gonna fight for the little fag -"

"Shut up! Don't you dare -" It was amazing how loud Blaine could yell. Heads whipped around to see the action all up and down the crowded hallway.

"Don't I dare what. I'm just calling it like I see -"

"Last warning, you fucking asshole!"

Karofsky tried to keep up his mocking tone, but something in Blaine's expression told him that he might be in danger. "So, you don't like it when anyone else lays a hand ..." He stopped talking as Blaine got his attention by pounding on the locker on one side of his head, and brandishing a knife inches from his face in the other. He looked at it with confusion, not recognizing the type, thinking _that's pretty small. Really?_ And then his eyes widened in horror as Blaine's thumb tripped a switch and it opened with a soft click.

"No. I don't. Maybe you should leave." His tone was low, soft, and lethal. _What the hell!_ Karofsky thought with increasing alarm. _Just how crazy was this guy? _He looked down, stooped a bit, and slid by the glowering boy in front of him, walking away faster than he really wanted to.

Kurt's mouth hung open. Looking up, he noticed it wasn't the only one, in the unnaturally quiet hallway. Blaine looked down at him, his face still red, but his eyes changed immediately as he addressed Kurt. "Let me help you up. Are you OK?"

Kurt managed to close his mouth, nodded yes, and took Blaine's hand. Blaine pulled him up to standing and seemed to look him over to see if he was really all right.

"Blaine! Principal's office, _right now_!" Coach Beiste's voice rang out.

Blaine shot Kurt a look that looked like an apology, and turned to face the Coach.

_A short time later..._

Principal Figgins' brow was thoroughly creased, as he bent his head over his folded hands, almost appearing to be in prayer. Coach Beiste was calmer, but still looked extremely pissed at Blaine.

"Enough. I think we've talked this through sufficiently, Mr. Anderson." He looked over at the aggravated Coach. He wanted to tell her he blamed himself, partly, for this; he knew the locker slams happened too frequently, but with staff cuts the hallways weren't well monitored and the rough kids knew it.

"Coach Beiste, step into the hallway for a moment please. Blaine, stay seated."

Blaine looked at his lap, stony-faced. He knew they wanted him to be sorrier than he'd shown for what had happened, but he just wasn't able to be convincing on that. He'd had to reveal more to them both than he wanted to, and had surprised them both, leaving them undecided as to what to do with him. But the truth was, he wasn't sorry: he'd scared Karofsky – so what if the guy thought he was a crazed ex-juvie? Word would definitely get out, and that didn't bother him. It was _kind of the point!_ Blaine doubted that the locker slams he'd delivered had done any damage to the linebacker.

Figgins returned to his office alone. "Blaine," he said, pushing a piece of paper towards him, "you will have detention for a week, but no suspension." At the hopeful expression on the teen's face, he added. "Which is not enough. We need to discuss this some more."

_The next Monday …_

How the hell did he not get sent back to wherever he came from? Dave Karofsky and his buddies couldn't figure it out. Sure, he hadn't used the knife, but what the hell! It made no sense. He found himself avoiding the goth teen more than before. It wasn't fair.

He shook his head as he walked to class after lunch. Damn damn damn. No way in hell was he going to come out of the freakin' closet; wasn't Hummel a walking lesson in why that was a bad idea? Not in high school, for sure. Dave had tried dating a few girls, had not wanted to believe that he was into guys. He was good at pretending, but cared less and less about trying to fake date girls. The locker room was sheer torture – there they were, some of them were really hot, but _looking_? Hell no! Waaay too dangerous.

And then there was Kurt. How did this guy manage to do it? No amount of bullying seemed to change him. He just came in, day in and day out, dressed in those body-hugging fucking _tight_ jeans, with his perfect face, perfect hair, and a voice he didn't try to change (and he got flack for that as well as his clothing choices). That, and Dave found himself looking for opportunities to _look_ at him; and though he'd caught Kurt's glances at other boys, he didn't think Kurt ever checked _him_ out. Maddening! He felt like yelling at the top of his lungs, I'm_ right here_, stupid! And I think you are the most goddamned distracting creature _ever_ to walk the halls of this fucking school!

He was pretty sure no one knew why he locker-slammed Kurt so much; between the frustration he felt, and the fleeting thrill he got from the brief physical contact, he honestly had a hard time not doing it. He knew it was sick. And he felt trapped. And there he was – chatting with some girl, arm draped across the open door of his locker, looking so damn hot. And smiling. The sun slanting through the sky light made him look almost angelic. He knew what he wanted. Damn! And couldn't admit to wanting. His eyes darted up and down the hallway. Their scary goth kicker was nowhere in sight. He walked close to Kurt, and brushed shoulders with him, before laying a hand on his chest and pinning him to the locker behind him.

Kurt felt the shoulder brush before he felt a big hand applied to his sternum. The slam was not as hard as usual. His bully didn't say a word, just backed away, nodded at him, and then walked towards the locker room. Nonetheless, something in Kurt snapped. He followed after Karofsky, running as fast as his injured leg would allow, and slammed the door open.

"Hey! I am talking to you!" Karofsky's back was to him; Kurt was fearless, insistent.

"The girls' locker room is next door." Karofsky muttered, noting that the locker room was currently deserted. He wondered if Hummel even noticed.

"What is your problem?"

"Excuse me?" _Why isn't he running away?_ Again, he had to hand it to him, the guy really had balls.

"_What are you so scared of?_" Kurt's voice was rough with anger.

"Besides you, sneaking in here, to peek at my junk?" He tried to sound casual. If only. Not the way he really wanted to be alone with Hummel.

"Oh yeah, every straight guy's nightmare! That all us gays are secretly out to molest and convert you." The words tumbled out fast, and Kurt just kept going. "Well, guess what, ham hock, you're _not_ my type."

"That right." Karofsky's face was suddenly close to Kurt's as he turned to face him.

"I don't dig on chubby boys who sweat too much and are going to be bald by the time they're thirty."

"Do not push me, Hummel." Dave was suddenly angry, faced with Kurt's statement that whatever his orientation, Kurt did not find him attractive in the least.

"You gonna hit me? Do it." How in the hell did he have the nerve to say that? Dave wondered.

"Don't push me!" Dave snarled back.

"Hit me, but it's not gonna change who I am. You can't punch the gay out of me any more than I can punch the ignoramus out of you!"

That was it! Kurt was actually physically challenging him, he'd stepped _closer_ into Dave's space.

"Get out of my face!"

Kurt didn't even know what he'd said next, or how it happened, but Dave had grabbed him and _kissed_ him. Not a peck, but a rough kiss on the lips, full of pent-up passion. Kurt remembered breaking free, and stepping back in shock. Dave had made to kiss him again, but Kurt pushed him away _hard_. He thought he'd heard a strangled, sobbing noise issue from Karofsky before he ran out of the room, leaving Kurt to crumple to a squat on the floor in a horrified daze.

Blaine saw Karofsky bolt out of the locker room, looking near tears. What the hell? He couldn't imagine, but he thought he heard a sound like a sob coming from behind the closed door.

Opening it quietly, Blaine took in the sight of Kurt, paler than ever, shaking and slumped to the floor. He was beside him in seconds, and instinct took over. Crouching beside him, he held the shaking boy's shoulders and demanded to know, "Kurt! Did he hurt you! Talk to me!"

Almost in a whisper, he answered, "he kissed me. I … he, he _kissed_ me, Blaine." He gulped. "He tried to do it again, but I pushed him away, and he just" he gathered his breath for a moment, "he just ran off."

**A/N: Not going to be on this particular cliff for long, dear readers! And that's all I'm going to say, for now! Oh, and please review, I'd love to hear your thoughts...**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Nope. Still don't own Glee... **

**Thanks again, readers and reviewers! You inspire me!**

Blaine listened to the satisfying thunk as the knife he'd hurled way harder than necessary found its target. And then the next. And the next after that. When he ran out of knives, he sighed wearily as he surveyed the target before him. Perfect. Ten out of ten, really. He was glad the injury to his hand a couple of weeks ago had been superficial. He had a big job coming up, and he needed to be in top form. His clients deserved as much.

His mom called down to the basement, seeing the light on there. "Blaine? Can you come up here?"

Sighing, he noticed the lack of her usual endearments. The all-business tone could only mean that Figgins and Coach had talked to her. This wasn't going to be a fun end to a day that had been shitty; the tension that still sat in his gut like a rock was still there, no better than before. He needed a better plan.

"Coming right up, mom." No need to delay the inevitable. He hated that she'd sounded so disappointed.

_The next day …_

"David? Wes? So, you both on for the job on Saturday?" For a couple of straight guys, Blaine thought, they sure did spend a ton of time together. And when he called, they usually put it on speaker phone.

"Sure, Blaine! It'll be fun! Nothing too dangerous, right?" Wes laughed wickedly at David's expression of concern.

Blaine sighed. "No. That's not exactly what that crowd wants, now is it. As long as I can count on you guys, it should go perfect."

"Perfectly, Blaine. Grammar!" Wes playfully corrected him.

"Right. I really think we should split it three ways -"

"No chance, Lima boy!" David protested. "Look, we all know it's really your deal. C'mon, we've had this conversation before, Blainers. The usual cut is fine. No arguments."

Blaine laughed softly. "OK, no arguments, you win. I miss you guys."

"I know. We're amazing." David giggled a little. "Dinner after?"

"Yes, definitely. You got the address, right?" Blaine shifted to a serious tone while they worked out the details so all would go as planned. He smiled again as he hung up when they were done talking, after they'd trashed his wardrobe choices. He needed the money, and was grateful once again that neither of them really did; they just liked to come along for the excitement.

_The next day …_

Carole looked over at the boys. Kurt had been busy helping her with wedding plans much of the evening. "Honey, much as I love the help, you've got to do your homework after dinner, OK? Burt and I will clean up."

Kurt nodded at her. "But, on the weekend we're going to pick the flowers, right?"

Carole grinned at him. "Well, I was going to do that. But I've got a party to go to in Westerville first, Saturday afternoon. Will you come along?"

Kurt furrowed his brow. "Why? What kind of party?"

"It's this elaborate birthday party for my rich cousin's twelve year old daughter. Well, she will be twelve by then." Noticing the pained expression on the boy's face, she added, "I don't think we'll have to be there that long, and that florist we wanted to check out is between Lima and Westerville, so I thought it kind of worked."

"The things I do for you. Good thing my dad loves you so much." He shot her an elfin expression, full of mischief. She mused that he probably had no idea how cute that was.

_That Saturday …_

"Wes, David, is everything set up?" Blaine called to his friends. He thought of it as making a dramatic entrance, and Wes insisted on calling him a drama queen. Whatever. They knew better than to argue with him on this.

"All set. Just listen up, and be ready." Good, Blaine thought. He knew he could count on these guys when he needed to. They could goof off all they wanted to, later.

Across the yard, Carole settled in to her white folding chair under the fancy white tent, and motioned for Kurt to join her. "Are you sure we have to stay for this?" He tried not to sound whiny, but really? A magic show for a spoiled twelve year old and her little friends?

"Ssssh! It's about to start! It'll be great!" Kurt could only drop his head, and wonder how the hell his Saturday had gotten hijacked.

He looked as a tall Asian boy strode to the front of the stage, with a glittery black curtain behind it, clutching a microphone. He was followed by a handsome tall black guy who looked to the audience and boomed out, "Ladies and gentlemen! It is my privilege to introduce you to … the Amazing Blaine!"

With that, the boys parted, music flowed from the speakers, and they started singing background notes as the curtain parted, and a tuxedo-clad boy burst from behind the them, clutching his mike, flashing a million dollar smile at his audience, before belting out –

Ho, Ho, Ho, It's magic!

You know … never believe it's not so!

It's magic, you know

Never believe it's not so!

Kurt couldn't believe it! That voice, it was incredible! And his backup singers were about as talented. Screw the magic show, he thought, wishing they'd just keep on singing. He gazed hungrily as the ….

Damn! The Amazing Blaine! Was … gah! The amazing cute goth guy from school! What kind of rabbit hole had he dropped into! Kurt watched as he continued singing, his assistants do-wopping and dancing, _dancing_, dammit! And setting up for the show. He hoped Blaine couldn't see him, sitting far back on the shady part of the tent; he imagined his mouth hanging open like a fish. Damn! He was sexy, in that fitted tux, with curls framing his face, and no shortage of flirty smiles and winks at his audience. Oh. My. Gaga. They'd evidently finished, and bowed to the audience. Kurt looked around; both the tweens surrounding the birthday girl, and their moms, along with a few dads, were clapping and smiling, happy to see what was next.

"Good afternoon! Especially to you, Cindy, our birthday girl." Blaine smiled at the girl in a pink dress, with a tiara in her hair. "Goodness! Where are my manners?"

One of his assistants stepped forward to banter. "I don't know, Blaine, I thought we packed everything!"

Blaine let the giggles die down, and announced with a flourish, "Please let me introduce messieurs Wes and David, my talented assistants. Please give it up for Wes and David!" The audience warmed to his ebullient tone and clapped while Wes and David bowed in turn, and blew kisses to the audience.

"Now Blaine," Wes chided, "what kind of a gentleman are you? Have you nothing for the birthday girl?"

"Oh!" Blaine's eyebrows went straight up. "Of course. How silly of me." Stepping off the stage, he bent down in front of the birthday girl. "These are for you. Happy birthday!" and produced a small bouquet of lovely miniature pink and yellow roses. She squeaked with happiness as he flashed a big grin at her, winked, and hopped onto the stage.

The music started again, as they boys broke into song again.

Do you believe in magic?

In a young girl's heart?

How the music can free her,

Whenever it starts

And it's magic, when the music is groovy...

As if it were the most casual thing in the world, Blaine juggled what the guys threw at him, all the while singing the old 60s song, to the delight of the audience members. No one even cared when he'd dropped one of the shiny balls (he was up to his maximum of five at that point) and kept on singing; Kurt was sure he wasn't the only one that was mesmerized. Damn! His backup singers were great, he could tell, but Blaine was like … a rock star.

He noticed this part of the act was done, as Blaine tossed everything back to the other boys and they all took a bow.

"Do any of you girls like balloon animals?" Really? Kurt thought. Well, he was a teenage magician, he thought. What could he expect.

The girls, however, seemed to be completely under his spell; that and the two guys with him, who also played to their audience masterfully. They worked together, all three of them producing fantastical balloon creatures for the happy little girls, who seemed to love the one on one attention from the gorgeous teen guys. Kurt snorted, he was pretty sure at this point they could have been mowing the lawn and they would have happily squealed and clapped. Of course, it was a warm day... maybe they'd have to ditch their shirts... all right, he smiled. Enough of that. And turned his attention back to the stage, where they'd leapt back on.

"I don't know, Blaine, are you sure it's a good idea?"

"Sure, David, it'll be fine." Blaine bantered back, and winked again. God, Kurt thought, this guy is _shameless_ on stage!

"Are you sure it's safe? I mean, last time ..." Wes sputtered, trying to look nervous. Kurt wondered what schtick was coming next.

"No permanent damage!" Blaine waved in the air, as if to wave their concerns away. "Let me just clear it with our host." He made a show of hopping off the stage, pulling aside the birthday girl's mom, and returning, with much nodding. "Are you girls ready?"

"Yeah! Woot woot!" he let them go on for a while.

"All right, guys, set it up." Suddenly the music was suspenseful. Kurt smiled; these guys knew their stagecraft.

"Fine. But I won't take responsibility for any of this!" Wes warned, trying to look serious.

Blaine just smiled, and stripped off his tuxedo jacket, laying it neatly on an empty chair off to the side. While the assistants readied a target, Blaine made a show of swallowing nervously, taking off his tie, and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his fitted white shirt. Damn! Kurt thought. _And I almost stayed home!_ He then undid his cufflinks, and rolled up his sleeves, waiting for his assistants to finish. They parted the curtain, to reveal a target, set up a good 10 paces away, and brought a basket, which they laid beside Blaine. Stationing themselves to the left and right edges of the stage, they said in unison, "The Amazing Blaine will now demonstrate for you his knife-throwing part of the show." Wes looked over to David, before he continued on his own. "We won't let him use a human, but we'd like to borrow back those balloon animals, ladies."

Kurt saw that he had them in the palm of his hand. Blaine collected them, going from girl to girl, softly reassuring them that he'd return their balloon pets in good shape. He secured them to the target, backed off, and reached into the basket.

He picked up the first knife with a flourish. Looking almost casual, he threw it at the target so fast and hard most of them missed seeing it happen. It was right outside the shape he'd made using the balloon creatures, roughly in the shape of a heart,with the middle left blank. He continued, and the girls, prompted by David and Wes, counted the knives as he threw them; one for each year in honor of the birthday girl. Kurt watched as captivated as the rest of the audience, as the knives all landed true, in a pattern mirroring the heart shape. He lifted one last knife and made eye contact with his assistants.

"No, Blaine! I don't think that's a good idea!" Wes said, in an imitation of panic.

"Nonsense. It'll be fine." Blaine threw a pleading look at the audience. "One more. What do you think?" He waited while they all talked at once, encouraging him.

With an air of resignation, David approached Blaine with a hot pink satin scarf. He wound it, and tied it around Blaine's face, obscuring his eyes.

"You may want to take a step back." David warned the audience, and the girls retreated a bit. David turned Blaine towards the target, and Blaine made a show of pantomiming am I in the right place? And David nodded yes, tapping his shoulders and grasping Blaine's arm, extending it in the direction of the target. Blaine nodded, waited, and waited. When it was totally quiet, he quickly lunged, and, thunk! The last knife found its target – right in the middle, not touching any of the balloons! The girls all exhaled and squealed, as Blaine removed his blind with a flourish, and bowed deeply to his audience, then gestured in turn to his assistants, who also bowed.

The music came on once again, and Blaine and the other guys grabbed their mikes to sing their finale

Come take my hand

You should know me

I've always been in your mind!

You know I will be kind

I'll be guiding you

You have to believe

We are magic

Nothing can stand in our way!

Blaine smiled as he sang; he knew the song was a crowd-pleaser: the adults usually were familiar with it, and girls this age loved to be sung to. As the last notes died away, everyone applauded, most of them standing, and the trio bowed their last bow.

Kurt watched from the back of the tent, where he'd stayed. He became concerned when it looked like they were just going to leave. Of course they would! He chided himself. Why would they hang out with a bunch of tweens?

He bolted out of his chair, saying a quick, "I'll be back in a minute!" to Carole, as he followed the taller assistant to the van he was packing. And there he was.

"Blaine! That was _amazing_!"

**A/N: You can imagine I had a blast writing this. The songs? I don't own 'em! I use them only with love. The finale was Magic, from the movie Xanadu; Do you Believe in Magic by the Lovin' Spoonfuls, and they opened with Magic by E.L.O. I would love your feedback; and I'll try not to keep you in suspense too long!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Sorry for the wait on the update! As usual, I don't own Glee or any songs/products you might see here…**

_**Tiny recaplet from the last chapter…**_

_Kurt watched from the back of the tent, where he'd stayed. He became concerned when it looked like they were just going to leave. Of course they would! He chided himself. Why would they hang out with a bunch of tweens?_

_He bolted out of his chair, saying a quick, "I'll be back in a minute!" to Carole, as he followed the taller assistant to the van he was packing. And there he was._

_"Blaine! That was amazing!"_

Kurt noticed that Blaine jumped, visibly startled, as he turned around to face him.

"K-Kurt?" Blaine was smiling but pale. "Ah … I didn't know you were here." _Brilliant_, Blaine chided himself. The smooth master showman he'd been minutes before had vanished.

David looked over to Blaine, and batted Wes' arm to get his attention. He nodded at his friend, made a "shush" motion, index finger to his lips, and hoped to hear more before Blaine noticed.

Kurt couldn't help grinning, Blaine was so adorably flustered. The same Blaine who'd comforted him just the day before, when Karofsky had slammed him again, then kissed him after Kurt had confronted him in the locker room. Kurt thought back to the previous day's revelations…

Kurt had just finished babbling out to Blaine what Karofsky had done to him. Blaine had wanted to make sure first and foremost that nothing worse had happened. Kurt then found himself for the second time enfolded in Blaine's arms, as he recovered from the shock and horror at what had happened, a few stray sobs wracking his body. Kurt pulled back as soon as he thought he could speak coherently, accepted the tissue Blaine handed him, and asked, "How is it you're here for me again?"

Blaine had looked directly at him, and smiling a small smile, had placed his hand on top of Kurt's. "How could I not be?"

"No, really, most people wouldn't have walked in here, hearing someone crying in this place." He motioned with his hands at the boys' locker room. "I'm so glad that you did, though, I didn't feel like I could even breathe."

"Remember, I told you I was bullied at my old school, Kurt?" He'd nodded, and Blaine had said quietly, now looking away from him, "it was pretty bad. I don't want to talk all about that right now, OK? But I have to tell you, I understand better than you think."

Kurt had felt only surprise at the time, as Blaine shared only that he'd been singled out, along with another guy, for being gay; and that once that had become generally known, his life at his first high school had been sheer hell. Just then, Finn had appeared in the locker room, surprised to find Kurt there.

"Dude! I was just about to text you! I wanted to know if it was OK to stay for a while, Rachel wanted to work on some songs" –

Kurt had sighed, and cut him off, "Finn, it's fine. Just text me when you want to go. My phone's turned on, see?" He'd waved it in Finn's direction. "I was just talking with Blaine, no worries."

"Cool. I gotta get back to Rachel. Later, Kurt!" and Finn had run off, after retrieving some music from his locker.

Kurt had regretted instantly that his conversation with Blaine had been interrupted. "I am so sorry you were treated like that." He didn't know how to proceed next, but decided to go on. "Being gay in this place isn't great, I can tell you."

Blaine's gaze returned to him, and softened. "I'd sort of noticed." He'd furrowed his brows, stood up and slammed the locker in frustration, then spun around to face Kurt. "Damn! that was stupid – sorry, not like you need me to go slamming into things! This crap with Karofsky has got to stop." He'd retrieved his bag, shook his head, and offered a hand to Kurt.

They'd gone to the library, where they'd talked quietly at a corner table, until Finn's text telling Kurt he was ready to pick him up to go home.

Pulling his thoughts back to the present, Kurt teased him. "You were kind of busy, what with breaking all those little girls' hearts, Mr. Amazing." Amazing. Not usually literal, he mused, but in this case, yes, totally true: gorgeous singing, bold performance, all wrapped in one jaw-dropping package.

Blaine just shrugged, and smiled, as some of his composure seemed to return. "Well," he bowed, "I am honored then if you enjoyed the show." As he stood up from his deep bow, his eyes were twinkling.

"Yes. Yes I did! Though I have to wonder who the real Blaine Anderson is? This isn't a side we see at McKinley, though I do approve of the wardrobe upgrade. I mean, _really_, Armani? Damn, Blaine!"

Blaine laughed at Kurt's obvious approval of this look. "Glad you approve. Of course you'd know the designer."

"Hey, Blainers, before you two go all Project Runway on us, care to introduce your humble assistants?" David had broken in, stepping to Blaine's side, Wes close behind.

Blaine narrowed his eyes momentarily at his friend and sighed. He'd forgotten for a minute they were so close by, he'd been so startled by Kurt's sudden presence. Shooting them a pleading look, hoping they'd go light on the teasing, he introduced them. "Kurt, this is David, and over there, that's Wes."

Wes squealed, "ooh! _this_ is the Kurt we've heard so much –"

"Wes!" Blaine shot at him.

"Yeah, we'd heard our little hobbit here was making some friends at his new school. Nice to meet you!" David's tone was suave but friendly, as he gave a _be nice_ look at Wes. Blaine was grateful, David extended his hand to Kurt, who promptly shook it. Maybe they wouldn't totally blow things for him.

Kurt looked at David, mystified. "Hobbit?"

"David! Wesley! I can finish packing up, I know you've got that rehearsal to get back to!" Blaine had blurted out, a bit unnaturally chipper in his tone.

"What"

Wes stopped David before he could say any more. "Sure. Blaine, that'd be cool. David, let's go."

"Uh, right. Going. Right now." And then David and Wes both burst out laughing as they walked away.

Blaine carried another props box back to his van. Avoiding eye contact with Kurt, he murmured, "Well, _that_ didn't go awkwardly _at all_."

"Can I help you with any of this?"

"No, it's fine. I got this." Blaine looked at Kurt's leg for a moment.

Kurt sat on a large rock in the ornate garden outside the tent. "They seem really nice."

"Oh, they are. Those guys really helped me through some awful times. And, they're a lot of fun." Smirking in the direction they'd gone off in, he added, "And usually they don't let me off that easy!" Blaine chuckled.

He could barely believe his luck; he thought about Kurt all the time, and now, here he was. He'd always planned on revealing more of his story to him (he'd hardly told him anything about the bad parts of his past, not wanting to freak him out when he'd just suffered emotional trauma). He'd regretted that the scary persona he wore at McKinley had probably frightened him off; he didn't want to tell him that he _liked_ him, with that going on. After he'd found Kurt crying after Karofsky had kiss-assaulted him, he'd revealed enough for Kurt to know that not only was he no danger to him, but that he was also gay. But telling him then that he really _really_ liked him? It hadn't seemed like the right time, and he didn't want it to be like that. He wanted Kurt to think of him as more than just a somewhat scary bodyguard. And he didn't think he'd had any indication that Kurt liked him that way.

Kurt laughed right back. Blaine snapped his head back to look at him; his laughter sounded so musical, just beautiful. Sitting there on the rock, the light caught the highlights in his perfect hair, and he just seemed to, well, _glow_. I'm not the only one who looks different out of school, he mused, taking in the tailored designer jacket and shirt Kurt wore, somehow making it work over the non-couture cargo pants. He loved the way he looked when he wore a relaxed smile, and then caught the change when his expression took on an impish air.

"I think I'm enjoying seeing behind the curtain, Mr. Amazing. I don't know what other tricks you've got up your Armani-clad sleeves, but I must say I'm interested." Kurt watched as Blaine hastily stowed the rest of his gear into his van. "I've got to say it, Blaine – you are an amazing singer. I mean, just wow!" _There I go_, he thought, _going on like a groupie. Too bad_, he thought, before he went on. "No stage fright either, I see!" he added.

Blaine blushed, happy Kurt had responded that way to his performance. "Well, that wouldn't be very _amazing_, now would it?" he managed to banter back.

Kurt took in Blaine's blush, wondering if this guy could possibly be any cuter. "You should join glee club! That would be so great! We need you!" Kurt rambled. Well, _I_ sure as hell need you, he thought. Hearing his singing had somehow made his attraction to Blaine utterly undeniable. Now he knew what Blaine sounded like, he couldn't wait to hear that sexy voice, or see the swagger he brought to his performances.

"You sing?" Blaine looked over at him.

"Yes. Yes, I do." Blaine nodded encouragingly, so he went on. "It's actually a show choir; we do dance moves when we sing, a little acting too with it sometimes."

"Kurt?" Blaine's tone was quiet, hopeful, as he closed the back door, finished now with his packing. "I've got room up front. How about we go for coffee – my treat – and then I can take you home?"

"That – that would be great! Just give me a minute!" Kurt's heart raced. His growing crush had gotten a lot bigger this afternoon. Worries that this lovely boy was way out of his league he gladly pushed to the side, for now. Even if he only ever got to be friends with him, he wanted to spend as much time talking to him, and listening to him, as he could. And he had just asked him to go for coffee! He hustled over to Carole as fast as his still-stiff leg would allow.

Blaine frowned as he noticed Kurt's limp. His hand had recovered pretty well, didn't really get in the way of today's show too much. He hated that this beautiful boy had been hurt that day, and knew he'd never forgive the jerks who'd done it. He banished gloomy thoughts as he saw Kurt finish talking to what he guessed was his mom, and rejoin him.

Blaine fretted just a moment before asking him, "you _do_ like coffee, I hope?"

"_Love it_. I know just the place."

Carole Hudson beamed, watching the boys from the cover of the tent. Kurt was so happy and excited; she'd quickly consented to a change in plans, and promised him to take plenty of pictures at the florist so they could talk wedding plans later.

**A/N: Well, I hope you've enjoyed this serving of klaineness! More soon, and sorry it's been longer than I would have liked. I love hearing from you, as you know, and feedback is a treasure to any writer! I will shamelessly dangle before you (ta da!) extra content to reviewers, PMers, etc. We still have some funhouse stuff to go – twists you probably won't expect (but that will ultimately make sense, since I respect my readers!).**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: and two coffee orders, coming right up, [eventually!] for your reading pleasure.**

**Still don't own Glee, or products or songs you might see here. I do own my OCs, but will happily share them with you, if you like.**

_From last chapter…_

_Blaine fretted just a moment before asking him, "you do like coffee, I hope?"_

"_Love it. I know just the place."_

Kurt had happily climbed into the van alongside Blaine. He had so many questions, he actually was aware of the danger of going into a nearly Rachel Berry style torrent of babble. _Not attractive_, he nodded to himself, and vowed he'd try to keep out of Rachel territory. He fretted back at himself, _but there are so many questions_! It sounded corny even to himself to think about it, but he couldn't help but see Blaine as a man of mystery. While Blaine was busy doing a last check of his equipment, and then thanking the birthday girl's mom (and collecting an envelope from her) Kurt absently sang to himself,

_I give myself very good advice_

_ But I very seldom follow it…_

Blaine was beside him then, and grinning. "Did I just catch you singing from Alice in Wonderland?"

Blaine watched as Kurt blushed furiously, and let out an adorable, nervous-sounding giggle.

"Um, ah … maybe? I didn't mean for you to hear that…" Kurt's voice lost volume with every syllable, so that the last bit was a barely audible whisper, and he looked down at his hands as he finished.

"I think it was cute!" Blaine cooed, hoping Kurt would look back up. "I didn't know you loved Disney songs! I love Disney music!"

Kurt perked up at this; Blaine's gushing tone had indeed reassured him. How, he wondered, could this beautiful boy be so darned adorkable? He looked straight at Blaine now, with a smile that reached to his eyes and got them back to sparkling. "I'm thinking this is going to be one _interesting_ car ride." Magician, Disney geek, what other surprises lay in store for him?

"Well, I'd best get in and have you lead on, MacDuff!" Kurt couldn't help grinning. Add probable theater nerd to the list. _And remember not to babble!_ he chided himself.

Blaine hadn't imagined his day going anything like this. To be sure, he loved the soft early autumn weather, which made the drive up to do this show a pleasure. Spending time with Wes and David, and then performing with them, was something he really did love. He loved it that his part time job paid well and allowed him good amounts of free time. And though they teased him about it, they got it, that he loved to perform, to please his audience, and if possible to make their day really special. That's how he'd gotten to know them, through the Warblers, Dalton's show choir. That, and the originally planned meal with the guys after the party, would have made for a great day right there. Having Kurt pop up – that seemed to be almost a statistical impossibility. The party was almost a two hour drive from Lima, and why would he show up at a twelve year old girl's birthday party, of all places!

This solved a problem for him, though, and he was grateful to God or fate or whoever had arranged it – seeing Kurt outside of school, where they could talk alone and get to know each other, without there being some sort of crisis involved was a blessing. And he didn't plan on squandering it.

"Kurt, I can't believe you were here, of all places!"

"I know! I guarantee you I don't make it a habit, crashing little girls' birthday parties."

"So, how exactly did you end up here?" Blaine felt relaxed by Kurt's playful tone. The world seemed perfect, even if only temporarily.

Kurt explained about Carole's errand with the flowers, and how showing up here had been just a brief stopover, as Carole had wanted to wish her cousin's cute little twelve year old a happy birthday. Her cousin had pressed them to stay for the magic show, assuring them they'd be glad if they did.

Blaine shook his head, taking in Kurt's story as the miles between Westerville and Lima started to melt away. He decided to drive a little slower, figuring Kurt probably wouldn't notice.

"That is one crazy story, Kurt! I'm glad I didn't see you until the end, though."

"Why's that?"

_Oh, because you'd distract me so bad I'd be a danger up there, or forget all the words to the songs, things like that._ That was what Blaine wanted to say; he'd decided he never wanted to lie to the boy beside him, but he didn't want to freak him out either. Worse, what if Kurt wasn't interested in him in that way? "Let's just say I need to avoid distractions like that…"

_Did he just imply that I would have distracted him?_ Kurt really wanted to believe this, but again warned himself that the talented, Armani clad hunk beside him was out of his league. He just looked down, and murmured a polite, "of course."

Blaine frowned at the abrupt silence in the car. His brow furrowed as he tried to concentrate on his driving as well as figure out why Kurt looked sort of down. After moments that felt too long, he cleared his throat, and said to Kurt, "you know, we don't know each other all that much. How about we take turns asking questions, no holds barred!" He glanced over to see what effect his bold proposal had on his passenger. _Damn! He's had some pain, for sure; last thing he needs is an inquisition in a car he's trapped in! _"Except, of course, that either one of us can just say 'pass', and leave it at that, any time."

It worked! Blaine smiled over at Kurt encouragingly: he definitely looked happier, and up to the challenge.

"Don't you think we maybe need a longer car ride?" Blaine chuckled at the snarky tone Kurt had slipped into.

"Bring it," he growled in a low voice.

_Yup_! Kurt thought, _right after I'm able to breathe again! And no, his first question would not be 'how can those two words sound so freakin' hot?_' "Okay, here goes, Blaine. Why the goth biker look?"

"Ooh, starting off tough, Hummel! All right, fair enough. What, you don't like my fashion choices?"

"He says, evading the question." Kurt snorted. "Is that your idea of 'bringing it', Anderson?"

Blaine looked straight ahead, glad to have the excuse of the road to pay attention to. "Fair enough. I'm new here, so I figured I could reinvent my look; no one would know. I wanted to look tough; I didn't want to get beat up for who I am. Kind of crazy, huh?" He just couldn't meet Kurt's eyes; when he'd gone with this decision, and acted the part to go along with the clothes, it had all made sense in his head. Explaining it now, it just seemed stupid.

Kurt wished he'd asked something else, he hadn't wanted Blaine to be uncomfortable. "Not really. I understand it better than you might think. Fashion is always about communication, whether the person is aware of it or not. You at least were aware, and exerted image control." Blaine looked a touch more relaxed at Kurt's response. "Kind of like Lady Gaga, in a way."

"Or Katy Perry." Blaine asserted.

"Really, Blaine?" Kurt mock-sighed. "Are we going to have _that_ sort of conversation? Are we bailing on our twenty questions thingie already?"

"No. We are not." Blaine smiled, trying to think of what to ask Kurt. He already knew more about Kurt than Kurt did about him, which he acknowledged to be kind of unfair. "All right. Let me think." He decided to go with something easy; he really just wanted to hear Kurt talk, and avoid making him uncomfortable. "So, your dad is getting married. Is your mom okay with that?"

Blaine was unprepared for the silence that followed. Hazarding a glance over, he noticed Kurt was paler than usual, and looked like he was fighting tears. _God, I am a complete idiot._ Then Kurt inhaled deeply, looked straight ahead, and answered him.

"My mom died when I was eight." His voice was very soft, and very quiet.

Blaine looked around him; this was a deserted stretch of road, and he pulled over to the breakdown lane. "Kurt - I'm so sorry!"

Kurt looked sad, but composed. "It was a long time ago. I'm happy for dad; Carole is wonderful."

"Good. I didn't mean to make you sad, though … you look like you could use a hug." Blaine looked over at him, trying to figure out if he'd made it worse.

Kurt just nodded slightly, and Blaine pulled him into a firm hug. He was relieved that Kurt hugged him back. "Thanks. I'm all right though. Really."

Nodding back, Blaine returned to driving. Kurt grinned at him devilishly. "And now it's my turn." Kurt raised an eyebrow as he asked, "so, what was up with that knife throwing! – and I mean the _first_ time I saw you do it!"

Blaine laughed. He suspected Kurt was piecing the whole thing together now. But he'd already been scolded once for evading the question. "Well, it was sort of, well, staged. Justin's my cousin, and he agreed to participate just that once. Kind of helped with the whole image thing."

"_I knew it_!" Kurt yelled victoriously.

"Oh, _did_ you?" Blaine asked, archly. "I call baloney! I think you were terrified" he added, playfully.

"Well, okay, you did have me fooled. But I did figure it out!"

"When?" Blaine really was curious.

"After the whole dumpster thing. When I figured out you weren't going to be the new, scary bully – at least to me – I wondered if maybe that was to scare someone else, like the jocks."

Blaine grinned. "Guilty as charged."

"But Blaine, what about that switchblade you pulled on Karofsky?" Kurt felt like this was a bit more dangerous territory. "You were furious, and frankly I don't think he's that good of an actor."

Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand. Kurt had seen him before like that, and figured it was something he did when he was stressed. "Do you mind if I pass on that one?" He finally said, in a quiet voice. He added, "if that's okay?" He didn't want to talk about Karofsky, or the knives, or the bullies past and present, or anything like that right now.

"Of course." Kurt hadn't wanted to trouble Blaine, and missed the light tone they'd had earlier. In a much brighter tone, he chirped, "well, can I at least have a new question?"

"That seems only fair." Blaine was relieved, it sounded like Kurt was going to choose something more fun.

"What is your favorite musical. I'm assuming you have one," he added smoothly.

Blaine cocked his head to consider a response. "So many. I guess I'd really go with Rent."

"Nice!" Kurt all but purred, approvingly. "Misguided, a little, perhaps, but certainly a very acceptable choice."

"Oh, really, Mr. Theatre Critic! And what might your favorite be?" Now, this was a conversation he'd envisioned having with Kurt!

"Clearly Wicked is superior, among modern musicals, that is."

They'd happily debated the merits of their favorite shows, and started singing snatches of songs from them to prove their points, and Blaine was amazed when he found himself pulling into the parking lot Kurt pointed him towards.

"The Lima Bean? Really? Kurt, that is such a cute name!"

"I know, right?" They both giggled at the silly pun that lent the shop its name. "But, I assure you, the coffee there is no laughing matter – it's the best around here."

"Perfect!" Blaine locked the car as they walked towards to entrance. "Mmm, smells great!"

Kurt smiled approvingly as Blaine clearly shared his love of coffee. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"Here's looking at you, kid," Blaine answered back, in his best Bogey voice. He had to agree.

**A/N: That last bit? Kurt begins with a quote from the movie Casablanca (which, by the way, to be totally clear, I don't own). Blaine answers back with a quote from a different scene in the same movie. That they are teenage boys and both get this? They both feel very optimistic indeed as they head in to share their first coffee. Ahh. And you know I love to hear your comments, feedback, whatever. It's OK to ask questions (which I may answer in a PM just for you), and also OK to offer constructive criticism. I do hope you're good with the pace, still awake?**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: A little coffee, a little action … and a little little A/N … I don't own Glee or other songs/products!**

I could really come to love this place, Blaine mused, as he waited his turn beside Kurt, at the counter of the Lima Bean. The smell, the pastries, and the fact that he was here with Kurt.

"What'll it be, Kurt? My treat – I insist."

"You don't have to do that..."

"No, but I want to. Besides, I did just get paid today." Blaine smiled broadly, and Kurt gave a little shrug and answered, "All right, sounds good to me. I'll have a grande nonfat mocha, please!"

Blaine moved up to order. "Hello!" He studied the girl's name tag for a second, "Sarah! I'd like a medium drip, and a grande nonfat mocha, please. Oh, and those cinnamon scones look great – two of those too."

The girl beamed at him as she tallied the order and Blaine paid. Why wouldn't she beam at him, Kurt thought, a gorgeous, polite guy in an Armani suit with a megawatt smile. He couldn't help but smirk a little, reminding himself that Blaine didn't play for that team. When their order was ready Blaine reached for the tray and led them to a table near the fireplace on the far wall of the shop.

_At the Hummel house …_

"Hi honey! I'm home!" Carole closed the door behind her.

"Hi sweetie! How'd the wedding flower mission go?" Burt congratulated himself on remembering what the errand was, and kissed her lightly before looking behind her. "Where's Kurt?"

He followed her into the kitchen as Carole got some water. "He went out for coffee. You wouldn't believe what happened!"

Burt managed to look pleased and puzzled at the same time. Whatever it was, it had made Carole happy; and from what he could gather, it was good for Kurt too. "Well, don't leave me hanging here, tell me about it."

They sat side by side in their cozy kitchen. "Remember how we were going to just pop in for Cindy's birthday party?"

Burt made the appropriate um-hmm noise; he didn't remember that part, actually, but whatever. Carole went on, "they had a magic show as the entertainment. And Burt, you wouldn't believe it, this kid was incredible!"

"Ah, that's nice. What's that got to do with Kurt?"

She smiled fondly as she remembered the show. "The magician was called The Amazing Blaine, and he had these two fellows with him who were his assistants. And they sang a few numbers as part of the show, and you should have heard them! They were so good! At the end, Kurt went and talked to them – it turns out he knew the guy from school!"

Now Burt's face creased with confusion. Westerville was a good two hours away, and Kurt hadn't ever mentioned any friends who did magic shows. But that name? "Carole, what did you say the kid's name was?"

"Blaine." Grinning, she fished her camera out of her purse. "I got a few pictures of the party, and I recorded a little of their singing while they were doing the show. Wait, this'll just take a minute. Okay, it's this one right here," she said, handing the camera to Burt. "Just push this button and you'll see it."

He did, and saw a short shaky video of three young guys in black suits dancing and singing Magic from the movie Xanadu. It looked exactly like the kind of thing Kurt would love, and looking closer at the lead singer it all clicked. "Blaine! Now I know why that name sounded familiar!"

_Back at the Lima Bean..._

"Blaine, really, let me buy this round." Kurt suppressed a giggle. "Listen to us! It sounds like we're at a bar or something." His face became mock serious as he added, "but really, I got this one, okay?"

Kurt strode up to the counter. "Oh, hi. I'd like another grande nonfat mocha, and a medium drip, please."

He hadn't noticed that Blaine had joined him. Blaine murmured into Kurt's ear in a low, sexy voice, "Wait? You know my coffee order?"

Kurt allowed himself a triumphant smile as he turned to Blaine. "Of course I do, dummy."

Later …

"Thanks for the ride back, Blaine. And the coffee. Several of them." Kurt was getting ready to go in his house. They'd been at the Lima Bean three hours; he could barely believe it.

"Thank you, Kurt! It was great having you with me, you know, for the ride. We should do this again!" Blaine felt like he couldn't stop smiling.

"Count on it! See you Monday." And with that Kurt exited the car, and disappeared into his home.

"Kurt! Is that you?" Burt's voice boomed out from the den, where he was busy watching a college football game.

"Hey, dad!" He gave his dad a quick hug before turning around to head to the kitchen. "I'm going to go get some dinner; you guys already ate, right?"

"We did." Kurt was mildly surprised that his dad had followed him. "So, you went out for some coffee?"

Right. Carole must've given him some details, Kurt thought. Busying himself with making an avocado wrap sandwich, he answered, "I did. It was great!"

Burt loved seeing the happy look on Kurt's face. "I hear you went with the magician from the party, Blaine." He wondered if Kurt would volunteer more or not, and waited.

Kurt spun around, suddenly almost bobbing with excitement. "Dad, he was so great! He and his assistants did these song and dance numbers; turns out they were in show choir together at Dalton Academy! And he was a really good magician, it was really fun." Kurt decided on the spot to omit telling his dad about the awesome knife-throwing part of the show.

"Uh huh. So, what happened after the show?" Burt really didn't want to make Kurt feel like he was trapping him, but he wanted to hear as much from him directly as he could.

"Well, I came out and congratulated him, and well, he goes to McKinley!"

"Yeah..."

Kurt narrowed his eyes as he calmed down from his enthusiasm and looked at his dad. "Carole told you about this, didn't she?"

"Maybe. Well, okay, yes."

"So, yeah, it turns out The Amazing Blaine is the one who rescued me from the dumpster. You've met him." Kurt looked hopefully now at Burt.

Burt smiled, not wanting to make Kurt suffer. He could see Kurt was in such a happy mood, and he didn't want to ruin it. "You're not worried about how I'd feel about this, are you?"

Kurt looked down at his ingredients as he finished chopping veggies for his wrap. "A little, maybe."

"Kurt." He looked up; this was his dad's serious voice. "Yes, I met him. The guy who didn't really know you, but chose to leap into a dumpster to help you when you were in there bleeding and sobbing. The guy who told me when I saw him waiting to get his hand stitched up that if you hadn't sounded so bad he would've gone after those guys instead – by himself! For what they'd done to you."

Kurt felt so relieved; he hadn't realized his dad had talked to Blaine enough to make an impression. "Dad, thanks so much."

Burt nodded. "I'm not finished, Kurt. I don't care what he dresses like, I saw a boy who was outraged that you'd been treated that way, and he stood up for you." He chuckled a bit. "Magician, huh? Yeah, Carole filmed a bit of their act on her camera; he's really good! Not to mention he apparently has other clothing choices from time to time."

Burt looked up as his son enveloped him in an unexpected tackle style hug. He hugged him right back, as soon as he regained his balance.

_That night …_

Kurt was in the middle of his moisturizing routine when his phone chimed, alerting him to a new text.

**Thanks for keeping me company on the ride back to Lima, and for showing me the Lima Bean! -Blaine**

Kurt immediately texted back. **Any time, it was great talking with you. See you Monday!**

He reflected that once they'd recovered from the sore spot they'd hit while talking in Blaine's car, and had moved on to musicals and all the other things they shared a love of (and it was amazing to him how many of these there were) he'd also stopped learning any really personal secrets. True, he now knew that Blaine was gay, and that he'd suffered for it enough that he'd had to switch to a private school with a strict no-bullying policy. He'd learned a little about his buddies Wes and David; two really cool guys who weren't bad performers. He'd been blown away by Blaine's sheer talent: the guy's voice was dreamy, and he knew how to schmooze an audience like a pro! And, well, throwing knives was a hobby of his … interesting. And that his look at McKinley was a pose, a mask of sorts.

That part he found really sad, though he didn't tell Blaine that. Once he'd gotten over being terrified of him (he reasoned that that hadn't been so crazy: the scowling, knife-throwing goth guy with chains and heavy motorcycle boots was indeed scary looking – Finn told him even Puck thought he was badass) he had to admit Blaine really rocked that look, if anyone could. But he was in his own way afraid to just be Blaine, whoever that was.

Blaine totally rocked his very fitted designer suit, that was for sure! He'd admitted to Kurt that his father had gotten it for him, when he was in a wedding on the Anderson side of the family; before his parents had separated.

And he knew from the homework errand that Blaine broke the juvie stereotype for anyone who really paid attention: he was an excellent student, in several advanced classes, a couple of them at the senior level. Another thing he knew from that brownies-and-iced tea trip: he was adorable in his home territory! Even getting over a nasty bug, Kurt had been blown away by how cute he was that day, in his adorkable glasses, with messy curls, and a tight tee over lounge pants.

He smiled at his reflection as he finished his moisturizing routine, and thought about the most important thing he'd learned: Blaine was gay, and out to his family and Dalton friends, and not planning on lying about it if asked at McKinley. He'd felt attracted to Blaine right away, even when he thought Blaine was kind of scary, but he'd had crushes on so many straight guys, and had learned to hide them as best he could. But beautiful, flirty Blaine was gay – wow! And at the very least, wanted to be friends with him. He was prepared to take what he could get, but out of his league or not, he resolved, Kurt Hummel was going to try to get his attention and someday lure him out of the friend zone.

With that, he hurried to his closet, and ransacked his wardrobe, in search of the perfect outfit for Monday.

Blaine drove the short distance back to his house almost in a daze; he felt like the time had gone much too quickly, and he already missed Kurt. They'd talked about so many little things, but had carefully sidestepped the sore spots, for which he was so glad. Listening to Kurt rant about why the movie version of Phantom was sooo flawed, or how the hosts of What Not to Wear sometimes seemed in need of makeover attention themselves (really, Kurt, he'd laughed so hard) was hilarious. Kurt in snarky mode was so much fun. And he was so beautiful, and Blaine got the impression that he just didn't know that. How that could be so was beyond him; he certainly knew how to dress to advantage (Blaine even had favorites in the jeans category, not that he'd tell him that!). His eyes were captivating, and he could not decide what color they were, as they changed with the light, and even seemed to change with his moods. His body … he decided he'd better not think on that too much while trying to operate a motor vehicle.

He did notice that Kurt seemed happy to discover that he was gay, though since that revelation came with a tiny bit of sharing as to why he'd adopted the persona he had at McKinley, he'd also instantly gotten his sympathy about what had happened to him. He'd cut off that line of conversation while they were still driving: he didn't really want Kurt to know what a mess he was. There was a lot he didn't need to know, at least for now. Heck, there were things even Wes and David didn't know the full extent of! It wasn't really wrong, he reasoned, to go slowly there, was it?

_Monday morning..._

"Finn! We need to go now! I am not going to be late!" Kurt yelled up the stairs.

Finn ambled down the stairs, grabbing his bag and the keys. "Sorry, dude. Let's go!"

Kurt had chosen his outfit with care: an off-white classic Marc Jacobs jacket, stone grey skinny jeans, off white boots, with a black shirt. He fiddled with the scarf as he buckled into the car.

"Dude! You're not wearing the brace."

The things Finn notices, Kurt sighed. Not that this outfit would even register with him. "No. Not today; I think it'll be all right." And damned if I'm going to wear ill-fitting cargo pants! He was so excited to see Blaine again.

"Cool." Finn nodded, leaving it at that.

Kurt walked down the hallway to his first class, looking for a glimpse of Blaine. Already his ankle felt sore without the brace to support it. Damn.

"Porcelain! In my office!"

How had he not seen Coach Sylvester coming? He wondered. "Ah, Coach, I don't want to be late to class ..."

"I'll issue you a pass. My office. Now."

He wondered what could be prompting this, and came up with nothing. Oh well, this was Sue Sylvester, and he'd learned not to try too hard to figure her out.

Sue had noticed Azimio coming down the hall with a slushie. She knew chances were the jock would find a way to 'accidentally' spill it on Hummel, and couldn't let that happen without at least trying to save him that indignity. The boy might be surprised to know she'd paid more attention to his gait; he was still limping, and now that he wasn't wearing the protective brace and wrap it looked like his ankle was killing him.

"Sit down, Kurt."

He was surprised that she used his actual name, and that her tone was kind. He briefly panicked, wondering if his dad had another heart attack or something.

Sue smiled at the teen. "Kurt, get a referral from your doctor to go for sports rehab. These guys are the best," she said, pushing a business card across her desk to him, "and you need to see them."

Kurt cocked his head slightly sideways, puzzled (but also relieved). "My doctor said she'd refer me to physical therapy, but these guys are booked solid. They already said they wouldn't see me."

"Look on back of the card."

He flipped it over, and saw in Sue's strong hand, "thanks again, guys, YOU OWE ME. Sue Sylvester"

"I've taken the liberty of calling them; they expect to hear from you."

Kurt's mouth hung open a little at this. "Coach, I don't know what to say. Ah, thanks!" Putting it away in his wallet, he added, "but I don't know why you're doing this."

"Simple. You're coming back on the squad. You need to get better before homecoming." She smiled smugly at him.

Kurt smiled and nodded. "I should have known..."

"Look, Porcelain. You need to get better. I know who you need to see. Also, I know you really need access to my Cheerios' training gym. So, what do you say you get better, and get ready to belt a couple numbers with Mercedes, and we call it even. Deal?"

He smiled a genuine smile at her. "Deal."

"Now, fill this out with your measurements and get it back to me later."

Kurt frowned. "Same deal as last time?"

Sue rolled her eyes. "Same deal. You get to tailor it, if needed, so it meets your insane specifications. Only you, Porcelain!"

"All right then."

"Now here's your pass. Get on out of my office!" She smirked, passing him another piece of paper.

"Thanks, Coach. Love you too." He smirked right back, and headed off to class.

**A/N: Thank you all so much, my dear reviewers: you encourage me so much, and inspire me to make a better fic every time! Thanks too to all those who have favorite-ed and follow this story – I really appreciate the vote of confidence.**

**This was a long chapter! So, now the stage is starting to be set. Kurt's dressed to kill, Sue's plotting (and so we'll get to see Blaine's reaction to Kurt as Cheerio pretty soon!), and Blaine is becoming aware of the fact that he's falling for Kurt.**

**Expect the unexpected – yes, indeed. Remember, we're still in the house of mirrors (see first A/N) … Also, anyone notice anything different about the coffee order banter?**

**Love to hear from you, and have a great Monday ...**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: First off, thanks to all the reviewers; your encouragement is awesome (yes, go take a bow) and your ideas and suggestions are really useful. BlurtItAllOut, loquaciouslauryn, DancingIntheRayne, ImJustDefyingGravityx3, WritingGeek27116, msdarque – you are all fab! I'm just going to get right to it, so more later, amigos; still don't own Glee (aw, Ryan, please share! I'll play nice!) or any songs, products, etc. you see here.**

About a week had passed. Kurt didn't know how he found time for his new 'activity', physical therapy. _Oh yeah, he did_, he thought sarcastically: no more movie marathons, reruns of Project Runway just for fun, and his tailoring corner in his room was sadly neglected. But Sue had been totally on the money: the therapists at Lima Sports Medicine were really great. His sessions were painful at times, but they were working. And he'd been cleared by Rick, his principal therapist, to use the gym at school for some of his PT homework.

"Hey, Kurt, where you off to?" Kurt looked up from his feet to a smiling Blaine. He'd gotten used to the idea that Blaine liked to make sure he made it to his ride home without anyone harassing him. He'd hardly seen Blaine scowl, since their first coffee together, which had been followed by a couple more.

"Blaine! Hey, you! I'm, ah, off to the gym. My physical therapist gave me some homework to do there."

Blaine took in Kurt's form. He'd been watching as his moved better every day. His smile right now was so happy, and his eyes had crinkled up just a bit when he'd heard Blaine's voice. He still couldn't decide about how Kurt felt about him – sure, he seemed to enjoy their growing friendship, and they texted each other at least once a day, usually just silly stuff. He wondered if Kurt had ever noticed how he tracked his schedule, to try to be around him as much as their very different courseloads allowed. And he always kept him in sight in the morning, and after school. He just didn't know. "Um, Kurt? The gym is that way," he smiled, pointing to where he was now heading.

"Oh, ah, I'm not going _there_." Kurt saw the confusion plainly on Blaine's face. "Coach Sylvester wants me to use the Cheerios workout room."

Blaine felt confused, and also a little hurt. The vision that had quickly formed had just been just as quickly dashed; he'd have loved to have him there. "That's a girls' workout room, Kurt."

Kurt looked at him with an arched brow, as if to say, _really_? "Technically, it's a _Cheerios_ workout room. There are a few guys on the squad, for some numbers anyway." He remembered now that he hadn't told Blaine about accepting Sue's terms; he didn't know exactly why he was reluctant to share this.

"And they don't go there, because they're really just on loan from the gymnastics team." Blaine said flatly, then instantly regretted it: Kurt looked deflated, and maybe a little hurt. "Look, Kurt, I know when it's quiet there, and I was just about to go for a workout. This time of day, I have the place to myself, honest. Come with me?"

Kurt smiled at Blaine's hopeful tone. Blaine continued to smile at him, then turned puppy-dog eyes on him. _Foul_! Kurt's mind cried! How could Blaine look so damned hot, and sweet, and adorable all at once, while still clad in his whole prince-of-darkness drag. Pfff! Puppy dog eyes on top of pleading in that velvet voice, it should be illegal! "All right, I'll try it. You don't suppose Coach Beiste will mind?"

They'd settled into a rhythm quickly: Blaine did his usual weight training and boxing exercises, first for speed, then sheer impact. Kurt stuck to his homework, not wanting to undo any of the progress he'd had in his ankle's healing, but all the equipment he needed was there. And the best distraction from pain (yup, still there!) or workout tedium: watching Blaine.

Blaine felt peace he'd never experienced before in the workout room. Instead of taking out his frustrations on the punching bag, or using the elliptical until some of his nervous energy dissipated, he felt relaxed, as he and Kurt chatted about nothing. Moving to take his gloves off, he looked over at Kurt. "You okay, Kurt?" he looked pale and drawn now.

"I'll be okay; I'm still getting used to this, and I'm just feeling a bit tired."

Blaine shot him a dazzling smile. "I know what you need: a grape Powerade! You'll feel better, I promise!" He moved to his locker, and grabbed a handful of change. "Stay put, I'll run to the machines at the caf and get you one!"

Kurt barely squeaked out an "oh, okay" and Blaine was off. He took a break from his exercises: he really did feel about ready to drop.

Kurt's head snapped up as he heard the door from the other side of the gym opened loudly. He noted with horror that Dave Karofsky was heading towards him.

"Kurt. What are you doing here?" His tone was soft, curious, and he walked right up to Kurt.

Kurt glanced nervously everywhere but at Karofsky. He quickly decided a snarky answer wasn't a good choice right now. "Working out. To help, you know, my ankle," he said, pointing to it.

"Kurt, I didn't kiss you because I hated you." Dave felt his frustration building as Kurt started to look panicked. "What I mean is," he stopped, not knowing what to say next; then decided to use actions instead. "Kurt" he said softly, and leaned in to kiss him.

Kurt saw that Dave intended to kiss him, and moved quickly (immediately hurting his ankle from the sideways twist) and simultaneously pushed Dave's chest away with both hands. "No! Stop! _No_!" his voice got higher and louder with each syllable.

"Why the hell not! Damn it, it's like you're teasing me all the time!" Dave sounded angry now, and he'd matched Kurt's movement and was now even closer to him. "I think you want this too, stop saying no to me!" He yelled back, and moved in to close the tiny space between them, this time pinning Kurt to the wall behind him.

"Get off him! Now, I mean it!" Blaine had come running when he heard yelling, and Karofsky was surprised that the smaller boy had managed to spin him around, so he was now positioned with his back to Kurt.

"Get out of here! This doesn't concern you!" Dave screamed, and was turning purple, veins standing out on his neck. "Get out!"

"What are you, deaf! He said no, get away from him!" Blaine grabbed Dave's shoulders and tried to steer him off to the side, away from Kurt.

"Shut the fuck up! You have no idea what you're talking about!" Dave threw a punch right at Blaine's head, which Blaine easily dodged, and then he landed a solid punch to Karofsky's jaw.

Kurt would later recall the next moments as the longest ever. He was horrified, afraid for Blaine, and felt immobilized by terror. He yelled at them both to separate, and felt like neither of them could hear him at all.

Azimio burst in as Blaine's first punch landed. Seeing no one but Kurt (who wasn't fighting, and even if he was, Azimio still didn't think he would have counted him) he decided to join Karofsky in beating the annoying juvie kid to a fucking pulp. Whatever had started this fight, he figured it would end fun.

Kurt tried to warn Blaine, as Azimio kicked him in the shin before throwing a punch to his gut. Again, Blaine's reflexes were faster, but he couldn't fight them both; they were both bigger, with longer arms, and this couldn't end well. Kurt flung himself at Karofsky, trying to bend him away from Blaine, and yelling for help as loudly as he could. Blaine was bleeding now, from a cut near his eye, and fighting both attackers as best he could.

Then Finn and Puck ran in, with Coach Beiste right behind, attracted by the noise of the fight itself, and Kurt's near hysterical pleas for help.

Finn and Puck tore Azimio off Blaine and pummeled him until he backed off, while Coach Beiste hauled Karofsky to the side.

"What the hell is going on in here!" Coach was almost too angry for words. Blaine's condition, added to Kurt's hysterical cries, made the picture easy to pull together: clearly he hadn't been the aggressor.

Coach Sue stormed in, followed closely by Santana and Brittany.

"Let me talk to him. Right now." Coach Beiste was a bit confused by Sue's deadly serious, commanding tone. But she had a lot of fires to put out right now: Azimio, a very injured looking Blaine, a shell-shocked Kurt, as well as Finn and Puck to talk to. She trusted Sue, though; she had a method to her madness.

"Right. Go. Karofsky, get the hell out of here!"

"Blaine! He's bleeding, he doesn't look right!" Kurt was crying, trying to get closer to Blaine, who was surrounded by the Coach, Finn, and Puck.

"My dolphins!" Britt rushed to hold Kurt. Santana stared darkly at Azimio before joining Brittany at Kurt's side.

Blaine wanted to tell him he'd be fine. He found he just couldn't talk, his head felt too fuzzy, and hurt like hell. He allowed himself to be lowered to the floor, not really understanding anyone. Yes, it's good to lie down, he thought. I'll just close my eyes for a second and …

"I think he's passed out, Coach!" Finn looked up, cradling Blaine's upper body. "C'mon, buddy, wake up!" He nodded 'no' to the Coach.

"Puck, call 911, we need an ambulance here _now_!"

I_n Sue's office …_

"Sit down, Karofsky." Sue's tone was icy, her stare just as cold.

"Coach, it was just a fight – "

"We both know that's not true." Her tone was quiet, deadly. She narrowed her eyes at him, and remained standing, towering over him. Getting very close to him she spat out, "Did you know I had surveillance cameras installed there?"

Dave instantly looked white, completely shaken by this news. Shit. He simply nodded no. What the hell?

"I happened to have my monitor on, and I saw the whole thing. Heard it too." Her eyes were locked with his, unblinking, her expression fierce.

Dave felt sick, felt his throat suddenly dry, didn't know where to look. He wanted to flee, but knew he couldn't.

"I'm a fair person, Dave." Her tone had switched to a slightly more sympathetic register. "What I don't have here is your thoughts. I'm a reasonable person, you'll find." Stepping back, giving him some physical space, she went on, "what I want to hear is your point of view. All of it."

Dave shook his head in confusion. So, she'd seen him alone with Kurt? And that he'd gone after Blaine, and been all too happy to have Azimio join him? He couldn't help it; a sob escaped, followed by heaving sobs, as he buried his head in his hands in shame.

Sue let it go on for a few minutes, before handing him a box of tissues. Then she decided it was time to remind him of why he was here. "David. It's possible, if I hear it _all_, and what exactly you were thinking, that we can avoid expulsion, and making this all public. But you _must_ tell me _everything_, or the deal's off."

_A short time later, at Coach Beiste's office..._

"That is mind-blowing. And messed up!" Coach Beiste looked saddened, overwhelmed. "How exactly did you get him to tell you all this?"

"Oh, I have my ways." Coach Sue smiled tightly. "Let's just say hearing that I had it all on tape from the surveillance cameras kind of broke him."

"Wait! What? Surveillance cameras?" Shannon Beiste looked around with a puzzled expression. Sue was known for some crazy stunts, so hey, it could happen, but really?

"He only had to believe the story (apparently he's not the only one who fell for it) in order to be led to give me the whole thing, start to finish, from his point of view."

"You are a frickin' genius. An evil genius, sure, but damn!" Coach Beiste shared a laugh with Sue. "But what the hell? Azimio? What he did just seems psychotic – this isn't the first time he's been involved in a beating, and I think he was in it just for the fun. Somehow I think that's even worse."

Sue had filled Shannon in on Dave's story, with all the history that had preceded it. Dave had told her literally everything. Shannon was so glad she'd let Sue handle this. "Thank you, Sue. I don't think I would have gotten to the bottom of this on my own."

Sue nodded her agreement. "What about Blaine and Kurt?"

Shannon exhaled, sighing as she looked out towards the workout room. "One of those guys got in a solid blow to the head; Blaine was bleeding, and then he blacked out. He's at the hospital; probably has a concussion. Poor guy."

"Where's Kurt?"

"He insisted on going with Blaine. So did Finn; well, that makes sense, they live in the same house. His mom was going to go meet up at the hospital."

The two coaches had worked together, talked together, more than most people knew. Shannon was so glad Sue had gotten to Dave first.

Christine Anderson waited nervously in the small ER room where she was told Blaine would be returning soon. She looked up as she heard a knock at the door, then a boy's voice, "Can we come in?"

"Sure." She recognized the boys who'd come to the house the day Blaine's hand was cut. "Can you tell me what happened?" The nurse who'd led her to this room had told her Blaine would be back soon from radiology.

"I'll do it." Finn said firmly to Kurt. He told her how Karofsky had picked a fight with Blaine, and that Azimio had joined him, and that before Kurt could pull him off or Finn and Puck come help Blaine had gotten hit in the head, and had blacked out shortly after the fight got broken up.

Christine noticed that Kurt looked pale, and had remained mostly silent while Finn filled her in.

"He was awake way before the ambulance got there, Mrs. Anderson, really. There was a lot of blood, but you know how head wounds are."

She nodded, and managed to fight back tears. "Finn, I am so glad you did what you did. I am so grateful to you."

They were interrupted by a hospital worker, wheeling Blaine back into the small room in a wheelchair.

"Mom!" Her tears came now, seeing Blaine trying to smile reassuringly at her.

"Oh, Blaine!" She looked over at the bandage on the side of his head, then held him in a tight hug as he tried to pat her back and comfort her. He knew she was probably remembering the assault that had resulted in him transferring to Dalton, and hated seeing her so worried.

**A/N: So sorry to have dear Blainers treated this way! I promise not to leave him like that long! Don't worry, I believe in balance, so next chapter will be filled with some lovely klaineness moments (you didn't really think Kurt would stay away from him, just because he's in a hospital, right?).**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts, comments. Anything you particularly liked (I know what my favorite moment is, but maybe yours is different)? Feedback on the fight scene would be good: I have no experience in that arena at all, and since I also avoid violent movies as a genre that may not have been my best work. Constructive comments are always good!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I've been so encouraged by the reviews and PMs I've gotten! More at the end, and on with our story! Ryan tweeted me to remind me that Glee's not mine (okay maybe he didn't); nor is anything else brand name-y. My OCs are mine, but I'll be happy to share. Klaineness alert, klaineness alert! Whoop whoop whoop! Er, ahem! And back to our story...**

Kurt entered the busy hospital about when school would be starting. He'd persuaded his dad to allow him to spend the day with Blaine, and he meant to be there as early as visiting hours would allow. He thought back to the previous night...

He and Finn hadn't gotten to spend much time with Blaine after he got back from radiology; while they were in the cramped ER exam room it seemed like the interruptions were endless, and Blaine's mom had fretted over him whenever the medical people got out of her way, it seemed. They'd heard her share with Blaine that she had an appointment with her lawyers and his father's lawyer that morning, so she wouldn't be in to see him until some time after lunch.

When they got home, Kurt and Finn told Burt and Carole everything. Burt tried to keep his emotions in check, but couldn't help thinking what would have happened if Finn and the rest hadn't heard and broken things up when they did. He was proud of his almost step-son; it wasn't like Finn just acted like a bodyguard, he really cared about Kurt. Kurt, it seemed, wasn't processing the threat to himself at all; Burt could see that he was consumed with care for Blaine, and when he'd insisted on keeping him company the next day since no family member would be there for him, he'd given in pretty readily. Besides, Burt reasoned, he really didn't love the idea of Kurt being back at McKinley until he knew what the plans for his safety were.

Kurt carried the basket with the gifts for Blaine and headed right to the room Blaine had been dropped off at last night. He'd been waved past the nurses' station (they knew him as Carole's soon-to-be stepson) and stood at the open door of Blaine's room. He furrowed his brow, as Blaine was clearly sound asleep, curls messily splayed on the pillow. The bandage on the side of his head looked freshly done, but he was cleaned up. Not wanting to wake him, he stepped outside the room and debated what to do, when a tech with a lab cart smiled and moved by him to go right in.

Seconds later, the scrubs-clad tech came out, looking for him. "Hello! My name is Gina, and I'm here to draw some blood on Mr. Anderson." She held out her hand, and Kurt shook it, mild surprise showing on his face.

"Good morning. I'm Kurt. How can I help you?"

"Well, um, are you a family member, or a good friend?"

He had no idea where this was going. Carole was going to have to explain hospital life to him some day, he mused. "Friend! Is he all right?"

Gina pursed her lips a little. _I can't really tell him anything, stupid patient confidentiality!_ Hoping he'd understand, she smiled reassuringly. "I'm just here to get some labs done. But I was thinking, if you don't mind, maybe can you just keep him company while I do?" _There_, she thought, _that didn't reveal anything she couldn't say. _The tech from the previous night had warned her that he looked like he was about to faint when his labs had been drawn the night before. One of _those_ people. She elaborated just a little, "Some people find it's easier to get their bloodwork done if there's a friend or something..."

She could tell from looking at the handsome pale boy that he got it now. "Sure thing. I didn't want to wake him up, but it looks like you were going to have to, anyway." And he followed her into the room.

Blaine awoke to Kurt's smiling face, as he gently nudged his shoulder. "Hi, Blaine! Good morning!"

_Was he still dreaming? _He'd know that voice anywhere, and he opened his eyes to look at Kurt, leaning over to look at him. _How long had he been here?_ He quickly recollected that he was in a hospital room, and someone on the other side of him chirpily greeted him. "Good morning. My name is Gina, I'm from the lab, and I just need a blood sample this morning." Blaine groaned. _Not again_, and not with Kurt to see just how stupidly needle-phobic he was. "Would you mind verifying your name and date of birth, please?"

He'd answered her robotically, as she put the rubber tourniquet on the arm closest to her. She had a couple of vials to fill, but estimated that once she got started that would be easy. She said as casually as possible, "Blaine, I suggest you talk with your friend here, you don't need to look at all, and I promise it'll be over quickly."

Kurt had witnessed way too many blood draws with his dad's heart attack, and sensed she was taking extra care here. Blaine's attempt to keep his face blank told him everything: he seemed afraid of the whole business. "Blaine", and he took Blaine's other hand in one of his, "I brought you something, I hope you like it!" And he put the basket right in front of him, and pulled the cloth napkin aside. Pulling out a foil-wrapped loaf, he continued, "I made this for you last night."

"Ow! Jeez!" Blaine hissed, as the tech found a vein.

Kurt hurried to distract Blaine. "I hope you like it, this is pumpkin bread, my mom's recipe." His eyes darted over, and he confirmed that the tech wasn't quite done, catching a glimpse of her deftly trading a full tube of blood out for an empty one, and attaching it to the hub of the needle still in Blaine's arm. "And this is some organic peanut butter," he smiled at Blaine, who focused on his every move, and this, "is maple butter – fantastic on pumpkin bread, or just regular toast too." Kurt caught the grateful nod of the lab tech, who finished up, applied a gauze pad and then some bandage tape, and put away the samples on her cart. "Hope you're hungry!"

"Blaine, thanks, we're all set here. Bye!" Gina left the room, and closed the door behind her.

The color returned to Blaine's face almost instantly. "Kurt, I, I didn't expect to see you here!" He wondered if Kurt had noticed what a wuss he was with the whole needles and blood thing. He immediately regretted thinking about that, as it made him a little queasy, and returned to the much nicer topic of the boy in front of him. "It's a school day!"

Kurt smiled a sweet smile, and Blaine felt like his heart skipped a beat. "And leave you alone, with just hospital food and limited cable to keep you company?" He wanted to keep it light, make sure Blaine was all right, and if possible, pretend they were just out for coffee at the Lima Bean. "No way."

"Ditching school for me? I'm flattered." Kurt was glad to see his old smile back, and much more convincing now. "Be careful, people already think I'm a bad influence." He grinned cheekily.

"Clearly. Maybe I don't care." Kurt looked more serious with that. Blaine looked closely at him: as usual, his hair was perfect, and he'd worn skin tight jeans that were, wow, so distracting! And he hadn't let go of his hand yet. "How's the head?"

God! Blaine hadn't thought about it at all, being awakened by Kurt, and then charmingly distracted by him when the tech was in. "Honestly, I didn't notice it at all, once you woke me. I guess that's good!" He went on, "hospital life sucks! They got me up at like five AM for vital signs and another x-ray, and then the nurse and then the doctor listening with their stethescopes … boy, does that sound boring!" He rambled on, "And then physical therapy came in to evaluate me, and they said I'd _failed_! That my gait was unsteady!" Blaine pointed to a cane near the head of the bed. "I told them it was because the sleeping pill hadn't worn off (which I _hadn't wanted_, by the way!) and that I was fine!"

"Oh, Blaine." Kurt managed to look sympathetic and amused at the same time.

Blaine harumphed, and looked a little pouty. "They did promise to come back later and let me try again."

Kurt teased, "I dunno, you sound awful busy, are you sure I shouldn't just come back later -"

_This was killing him_, he wanted so badly to wrap his arms around Kurt and insist that he never wanted to say goodbye (_how am I so sappy all of a sudden?_, he self-critiqued), but he figured since Kurt didn't even know that he liked him that way, and he was in the dark about Kurt's feelings for him, that probably wasn't the right move. "No way! I'll die of boredom! Not to mention maybe I can get you to ward off the next vampire attack."

"So, hungry?" Kurt asked brightly.

Blaine had eaten earlier, as the horrendous hospital schedule had ruined his sleep, and he hadn't been allowed to have anything other than ice chips last night. But the bread smelled terrific, and he was happy to have a second breakfast, especially with Kurt to share it with. "Kurt, that smells so good. I'd say, 'you shouldn't have', but that would just be insincere. Let's have it!"

Kurt looked around the room, then turned to Blaine. "Why don't you wait a minute, I'll get some coffee to go with it – they have a Starbucks on the first floor."

"You're spoiling me!"

"Maybe a little … medium drip, right?" They both smiled at their running joke, feeling like they could both order their usual coffees in their sleep.

"Right. Hurry back." Blaine missed Kurt's hand on his as soon as he moved to go get the coffees. He had to admit that it was more than gratitude for Kurt's thoughtfulness – the bread and yummy toppings, the coffees, skipping school to be with him,_ all of it _– he had already fallen for Kurt, who knew how to make him laugh, made him feel like he was at home wherever they were together, who was quite possibly the most beautiful boy he'd ever known, with a beautiful heart to match under his snarky exterior. Reaching up to the bandage on his head (yet another fussy thing that they'd messed with this morning) and frowning down at his hospital gown, he resolved this was not going to be the time or place for him to have _that_ conversation with Kurt. Ugh.

Kurt returned minutes later with the coffees and some paper plates and plastic knives, and prepared some of his bread for Blaine. "Peanut butter or maple cream?"

"One of each!" Blaine gleefully answered, sipping his coffee. "Oh, this is perfect."

They'd chatted, as they idly watched Ellen on the television, Blaine enjoying seconds of the delicious bread, and talked about everything but yesterday, until Kurt turned to Blaine. "You don't know how upset I am at what happened to you. That was so horrible!"

Blaine noticed with distress that Kurt suddenly looked near tears. "Kurt, _I_ was worried about _you_! Damn that Karofsky, what the hell was he doing! You sounded terrified – what if I hadn't been there?"

Kurt looked down. "I don't know." They hadn't been alone last night, and it certainly wasn't a time to tell him then what had happened before Blaine got there. But Kurt focused on the beating Blaine had gotten, which had turned so ugly when Azimio ganged up on him. He'd been uselessly wedged behind David, and hadn't even reacted at first: he'd been frozen. When he tried to pull Karofsky away, he didn't think he'd budged him at all, but he'd yelled for help at the top of his lungs while doing it. "Honestly, I was just thinking about you."

Kurt's eyes met Blaine's intense hazel ones. He'd come to realize that his feelings for Blaine were unmistakable; every spare thought was devoted to him. He was the last person he thought of at night, and the first as he got ready every morning. He admitted it to himself: he loved Blaine Anderson. Somehow, he looked adorable to him, and his heart ached at how vulnerable he looked there in his hospital gown, bandage on his head. They had plenty of time here. He'd thought of Blaine's actions, his looks at him when he thought he wasn't looking, and how it seemed like he was always around when he was in McKinley's halls, and the few times they'd gone for coffee. That they were good friends now was not a question. Blaine had even shared some of his heavily guarded past with him, and of course he'd gotten to see him as The Amazing Blaine. Kurt decided it was time to tell him, at least a little.

Blaine studied Kurt's face; he'd been quiet after admitting that he'd been thinking of him. His beautiful eyes had looked far away, as if he were trying hard to think of what to say. He felt like he was holding his breath, unable to break the spell, waiting for him to speak.

"Blaine, it's not just because once again, you're my knight." Kurt smiled a small smile that did not reach his eyes. "Though that, of course, is amazing." Kurt moved his chair close to Blaine, and reached across to place a hand on his shoulder. Blaine was so distracted by his touch he momentarily had difficulty focusing, but Kurt wasn't done talking. "I love spending time with you; no one could have kept me away today, though it's nice that dad gave me permission." His eyes twinkled with mischief at this.

What is he going to say! Blaine's thoughts raced as he looked at Kurt: he wanted so much to believe that Kurt had feelings for him, but hadn't expected anything like this, not here!

Kurt went on, noting that Blaine hadn't said anything. "But, I _like_ you, Blaine, so much." Kurt saw Blaine's eyes widen in surprise. "And I just wanted to tell you that, so bad." His face was now inches from Blaine's, and he stretched to gently bring his lips to Blaine's, and caressed his cheek with his other hand.

Blaine felt his heart racing, his eyes closed as he felt Kurt's soft lips on his, then his hand on his face. He took in an unsteady breath as he kissed Kurt back, and too soon Kurt pulled away to look at him, rewarded instantly by a goofy, face splitting grin on Blaine's face. "Oh, Kurt ..."

They were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, and Blaine's nurse who burst in right after. "Are you okay? Your heartbeat went kind of crazy all of a sudden! Are you short of breath?"

They burst out laughing, in perfect synch at the absurdity of it all, and the nurse's face turned pink as she took in the sight of the two boys, as they laughed and smiled at her.

**A/N: Oh, dear readers, you keep driving my narrative! So yes, we see that Kurt is brave too. Originally I'd planned to have this happen a bit later, but I think this works too. Dear Blainers won't be in the hospital long, but I'm afraid there's more Karofsky drama to come. Don't worry, I'm pretty sure ultimately you'll enjoy it. I better quit there.**

**The pumpkin bread is the one I make all the time (not just in the fall); and it's fabulous, no-fail, and you should try it (once you're not suffering through summer's heat). The recipe is Downeast Maine Pumpkin Bread, at . Maybe you'd like to try my (and I think, Kurt's) variation: you can add a mashed banana or two to the batter, no other changes needed, and that is yummy and a nutrition boost. Another variation is to throw in a handful of dried cranberries (craisins), ¼ to ½ cup, which also goes nicely with it.**

**Lastly, I really want to thank my reviewers; you inspire me, help guide my choices in the story (klaine kiss demanders, I am looking at YOU!), and are just great in general: loquaciouslauryn, Englishgleek, BlurtItAllOut, msdarque, and I'mJustDefyingGravityx3 – I wish I could invite you all over for pumpkin bread and coffee :-)**

**Let me know what you think, you know I love to hear from you! First gentle kiss – too soon?**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N Sorry for keeping you waiting, dear readers, but am hoping this makes up for it! More later...**

**Still don't own Glee, or other brand names.**

_**From last chapter...**_

_**Blaine felt his heart racing, his eyes closed as he felt Kurt's soft lips on his, then his hand on his face. He took in an unsteady breath as he kissed Kurt back, and too soon Kurt pulled away to look at him, rewarded instantly by a goofy, face splitting grin on Blaine's face. "Oh, Kurt ..."**_

_**They were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, and Blaine's nurse who burst in right after. "Are you okay? Your heartbeat went kind of crazy all of a sudden! Are you short of breath?"**_

_**They burst out laughing, in perfect synch at the absurdity of it all, and the nurse's face turned pink as she took in the sight of the two boys, as they laughed and smiled at her.**_

"I think I'm more than okay," Blaine assured her.

"I think so too." She smiled back at them both, noticing now the boys' expressions. "All right, be back later."

Dr. Sanders frowned as he studied the bank of cardiac monitors. "Jenn, I thought you said his heart monitoring was unremarkable. Did you see this?"

She grinned back at him. "I did, he's fine."

"His heart rate doubled just a few minutes ago."

"I know it did." And she filled him in on what probably precipitated this. She was rewarded with belly laughs from the usually reserved doctor.

"I'll just go check him out, and I'll see you after. At the very least, maybe we can ditch the cardiac monitor!" He went off towards Blaine's room, shaking his head and still chuckling a little.

"Maybe not the most romantic first kiss ever. Sorry." Kurt had moved back to his own chair, but held tight to Blaine's hands.

Blaine's eyes were shining with obvious happiness and excitement. "You have no idea what it means to me. I, I … I really like you too, Kurt. So much." He leaned towards Kurt again, and was rewarded with Kurt bridging the distance between them to perch on the edge of his bed.

Both of them rolled their eyes at the sound of another rap on the door, this time followed by Dr. Sanders' entrance.

"Blaine! Hello, how are you today?" Kurt was glad to see that the doctor looked friendly, and not annoyed at him (though he returned to his chair).

"Fine! Can I go home?" Blaine smiled, looking at the doctor hopefully. The doctor was already fiddling with his stethescope, clearly getting ready to examine him again.

"Soon; maybe tomorrow morning. I just want to take a look and listen. Do you want your friend to leave for this?"

Blaine looked around the doctor and smiled at Kurt. "No, not at all."

The doctor listened to his heart, belly, told him when to breathe, listened to his lungs, shone a light in his eyes, and lifted the bandage on his head. "Is this still sore?"

"Not unless you touch it." Blaine wanted so much to go home. He wasn't going to lie, but he didn't want to volunteer anything that would make them keep him longer.

"How about headaches?" The doctor had now turned to face him directly, all business.

Blaine looked down, sighed, then admitted, "yes, I did have one earlier. And last night."

"How about now?"

"Nope. I feel great right now," Blaine said hopefully, smiling and meeting the doctor's gaze.

_Ah, the power of endorphins_, Dr. Sanders thought to himself. Eyes smiling, he clapped Blaine's shoulder and got up to leave. "Tell the nurses right away if the pain comes back. Things are looking pretty good so far. I'll stop by later when your mother is here."

They waved goodbye, and Dr. Sanders motioned for Jenn as he strode towards the nurses' station.

"Jenn, can you take a verbal order?"

"Sure thing. What's up?" Jenn noticed the doctor's wry smile and guessed what was coming.

"Go ahead and discontinue cardiac monitoring on Blaine Anderson. I think you were absolutely right."

"Got it!" Jenn mouthed an _I told you_ to her colleague, and went to disentangle Blaine and give him the news.

Blaine was only slightly surprised to hear yet another knock, followed by his nurse coming in, all smiles this time. "Blaine, I'm just going to free you from the monitor," and she quickly undid the leads and went to take the equipment with her.

"Thanks!" Blaine blurted out, not knowing what else to say.

"You're welcome. See you later." And she left.

Kurt smirked at her retreating form. "Alone at last?"

"I wouldn't count on it." Blaine reached for Kurt again, who happily complied by joining him again, sitting on the side of the bed. "You have no idea how much it means to me, Kurt."

Kurt thought Blaine's eyes had never looked more beautiful, and he found it distracting to hear Blaine as well as look at him. _Is this what sensory overload feels like?_ He wondered. Blaine held his hands again, and continued, "you are so amazing, Kurt." He nodded and smiled a little smile. "There I was waiting for the right time, and afraid that maybe I'd gotten it all wrong, and then, wow. Just wow."

Kurt wanted to say so much more. "I can hardly believe it, too." He was surprised then as Blaine practically hug-tackled him, and he felt Blaine's strong arms around him as he nuzzled into Kurt's neck. Kurt could hardly believe how great this felt, and felt like he never wanted to let go, returning the embrace, when Blaine let out a sharp whimper, causing Kurt to lean back and look at Blaine with concern.

"It's all right. Just a little sore, right there," Blaine said apologetically, pointing below his left arm to the bottom of his ribcage. He looked at him with puppy eyes, "come back?"

Kurt laughed and hugged him again, this time a little more lightly, before returning to sitting up. "Is it so wrong that I just don't care where we are? All I can think is how happy I am that, you know, you like me too, that way." He looked down, a little shy, for the first time that day.

"I'm not the best person to figure that out. I mean, here I am," he waved his arms around, taking in the whole room, and stopping by picking at his hospital gown, "and I don't know how I'd be happier right now. All because of you."

"Do you suppose I could squeeze in beside you, I've got a surprise."

"Another one? Good thing that heart monitor's not on anymore!" Blaine joked.

Reaching into his messenger bag, Kurt pulled out his laptop. "How about some Harry Potter?"

Blaine nodded his head and moved over a bit. "You're so good at spoiling me. Which one?"

"Four – your favorite."

"That it is. As long as you're here, it's absolutely perfect."

"You're so right." Kurt put the disk in, set it to play, and leaned into Blaine's sideways hug.

The next two hours flew by, with far fewer interruptions. Blaine was glad that his nurse worked 12 hour shifts, since Jenn seemed to not mind Kurt at all, and was so friendly. He didn't know if everyone here would be like that. Both boys were evidently tired, as they watched the movie side by side, with Blaine nerdily filling Kurt in on all sorts of Harry Potter trivia, at some point Blaine had melted into Kurt's side and fallen asleep. Kurt noticed this, and planted a soft kiss on the curly head beside him, and shortly thereafter fell asleep too, as the movie finished and went to the menu selection loop.

Christine Anderson checked in at the nurses' station, and was happy with Jenn's update; it seemed Blaine was doing well, and would go home soon. She was glad; she'd needed good news. Her sister Mimi was beside her, as she had been throughout the meeting with the divorce lawyers. She squeezed her sister's arm once again, and they headed to Blaine's room.

She was surprised by the sight in front of her: Blaine was sound asleep, slouched against Kurt's side, with the open laptop showing they'd watched a Harry Potter movie. Kurt woke up, shook his head in surprise, and noticed Blaine's mom, and a woman beside her who probably was Blaine's aunt, they looked so similar.

"Mrs. Anderson! Hello!" he managed to squeak out quietly. "I was just keeping Blaine company, and I brought some movies to watch, and we, well, we fell asleep."

Christine laughed in a kindly way, noticing Kurt's face; he was pink all the way down to his neck. "I'm glad you were there for him, sweetie." He was mildly surprised when she swooped in and the tiny woman enveloped him in a hug. _No wonder he's so huggy!_ Kurt mused to himself.

They all laughed as Blaine snorted and finally woke up, and met his mom's gaze with a big smile. "Mom! Auntie Mimi!" Both women hugged the now-awake Blaine, and he let his mom fuss over him, examining his head, fussing with his covers.

Blaine collected himself, cleared his throat, and said to Kurt, "Kurt, this is my Auntie Mimi. Auntie, this is Kurt." Kurt chuckled; how he could go from sleepy snorting Blaine to dapper in about one minute he'd never know.

Kurt straightened, beaming at the sisters, and reaching to shake Blaine's aunt's hand. "It's so nice to meet you."

"You too, sweetie!" and she promptly gave Kurt a warm hug. _Yup_, he thought, _must run in that family_.

**A/N: Dear friends, I'm sorry it's been a few days, so I ask for your patience. I've been so touched by your reviews and messages, and all those following and favoriting my story. I hope you know that I value you a lot! A quick shout-out is well deserved here: EnglishGleek, so nice to hear from you again! Loquaciouslauryn, you know that you are an ongoing inspiration :-) . ImJustDefyingGravityx3, I love your headcanon on my story (read the reviews for her comment, it's worth it!). A lot of you seemed to like the heartbeat/nurse interaction part (I'm looking at you, msdarque!) and I can tell you, since it's what I do, that Blaine's reaction is literal: his healthy young heart may beat at say, 55 beats per minute; experiencing his first kiss could easily double that, and quickly! As long as there's a good reason for it, that's not a problem (so nurse Jenn giving the dr. some context so that he would also know that in fact Blaine's heart was fine, he was just excited!). And OrangeCoyote, DancingintheRayne, Selibow, HockeyGal09, and CBCstories, I hope you continue to enjoy, and I thank you for your kind reviews too. ExoticaHollow1379 and BlurtitOut, thanks for your encouragement. I am actually new to fanfic (just since May of this year) and writing for anyone but myself, so comments regarding pacing and storyline are things I pay attention to, and I'm glad this is working for you. I hope you all continue to enjoy! Lastly, for right now I'm going to hold off on Easter eggs and write another chapter to post!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Still don't own Glee. Or other stuff. You guys know the drill.**

Blaine was happy to be home by lunch the next day. His mother and aunt fussed over him, now unimpeded as it was a Saturday, making his favorite dumplings and sticky rice dishes (and letting him get out of eating some of the veggie dishes, which _never_ happened).

He was so happy they liked Kurt. They'd asked lots of questions once Kurt had gone home last night, and both of them simply seemed thrilled that he was happy, and they raved about how much they liked Kurt. His mother tried some of Kurt's pumpkin bread, and expressed her delight as Blaine proudly told her Kurt had made it himself. For the first time, he actually felt glad his parents weren't together (and instantly felt a little guilty about it): whereas his mom had quickly adapted after he came out (she'd been surprised but never was awful about it, and had grown to be very supportive), his father was another story. Michael Anderson, in addition to being a class A dick in Blaine's mind (he didn't think he'd ever be able to forgive him for cheating on his mother and hurting her so badly), was prone to gay-bashing comments and had expressed more than once that he thought maybe Blaine would just grow out of it. He was glad he didn't have to deal with his father right now, though his mom warned him that he'd probably be around this weekend to check on him.

He kept his phone close, as Kurt texted him several times that day, including one this morning before he'd stopped by with coffee again at the hospital. He held onto the feeling of Kurt's kiss as it brushed his lips this morning, hungry for more, for Kurt to never leave. Kurt had to work at his dad's shop today, but Kurt hadn't left his side until his mom showed up shortly after he did.

Monday morning, Blaine fretted as his mom looked at him sternly. "No, Blaine, you're not going back to school until after Dr. Jordan clears you. That's it." Fortunately, his appointment was for later that day, and he was confident he'd get the okay to return.

"Hey, white boy!" Kurt turned to Mercedes' voice as she caught up with him in the hallway. "Someone's looking happy!"

"Good morning to you too, Mercedes." Kurt continued to smile. She looked at him closer.

"You got something you wanna tell me, Kurt?" He jumped a little, shaking himself out of his reverie. "You look _way_ too happy for a Monday morning."

He smiled tightly. "Not now, 'Cedes. Soon. It's Monday morning? Hadn't noticed." He adopted his usual breezy manner with his friend, who decided not to challenge it.

"All right, Kurt, but you better spill eventually; I don't want to be hearing any news second hand!" She cuffed him playfully.

"You won't. Promise!" And he smiled as she hurried in the opposite direction to her first class. He hadn't gotten far, when he felt someone collide with his shoulder, and stepped backwards towards the lockers. Dave Karofsky just looked at him intently, then quickly walked off, leaving Kurt dazed and worried. He decided right away that Blaine didn't need to know this, as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, with a fresh message from Blaine. **Have a great day, sorry I can't deliver you a coffee! **Checking his watch, he decided he had time for a quick text back, **I'd love to say it's the thought that counts, but I could use the caffeine. You owe me ;-), **which was followed almost instantly with **LOL! Don't be late to class!**

The day seemed to go by slowly, as Kurt counted the minutes to when he could go see Blaine. Even Glee practice seemed tedious; Mr. Schue let him off on the dance rehearsal, since he knew Kurt could learn it quickly, and his ankle still hurt if he pushed it. So he watched as Finn struggled, and sang along, singing his part perfectly, and allowing himself to be amused by Rachel's exasperation as Finn had nearly stepped on her. Then practice was finally over.

"Dude, I just have to check in with Coach, and do some quick stuff with the team, shouldn't take too long. I'll text you when I can pick you up, OK?"

"Fine, Finn," Kurt sighed, not bothering to correct him on the whole 'dude' business. "I'll just hang out here for a bit, I can start on my homework." He decided to skip the gym; the boys' gym was definitely a no-go, and he didn't feel like joining the noisy Cheerios just now. He could do a lot of the exercises at home, without equipment, after all. So he was surprised when only about 10 minutes had passed and he got a text from Finn, **Meet me in the library**.

Now that was odd. Was practice canceled? Why not just go straight home, then? He decided not to bother with trying to figure it out, and dashed off a quick **Got it, see you there** and then gathered his things.

The hallway leading to the library was empty, and his steps echoed as he turned the corner to go look for Finn. Standing in front of him, blocking the way to the library was Dave Karofsky.

Kurt's eyes widened in surprise; his eyes darted up and down the hallways, which were deserted. The library was dark, closed early for some reason. He felt his mouth go dry, and Karofsky studied him, then spoke.

"Kurt, I just wanted to talk to you. It's okay." He held up his hands, palms out towards Kurt, and stepped away slightly.

"Okay?! Did you _steal_ Finn's phone to text me?" Kurt's voice had risen at the end of this, outraged that he'd been tricked into meeting in this lonely place, and fear crept in as well.

The football player sighed, and looked imploringly at Kurt. "No, I didn't _steal_ it... I just borrowed it – I put it right back, I swear. I just wanted to talk to you!"

Kurt tried to steady his breathing, feeling his heart racing. Karofsky didn't look threatening right now, he looked fairly reasonable. Inhaling deeply, he tried to summon calmness, and answered, "well, we're both here, so go ahead, talk."

Dave looked down. "I'm doing an in-school suspension. This" he gestured to the now-closed library, "is my new home for now." He looked at Kurt pleadingly. "Kurt, I … I didn't mean for that all to happen."

Kurt swallowed, as a stormy look overtook his face and he faced Dave. "By 'that all' do you mean kissing me against my will, or ganging up on Blaine and getting him hospitalized?"

Dave closed his eyes at Kurt's suddenly cold demeanor. He didn't look scared now, he looked livid. "No! None of that! Kurt -" he looked down, then snapped his head up to say with conviction, "I would _not_ have ganged up on that fucking goth kid! It started as one on one, it wasn't supposed to be like that!"

"Like what, then? I pushed you _away_, didn't you notice that? You've hurled me into dumpsters, slushied me I don't know how many times, and seem to love slamming me into lockers! What the hell!"

Dave's face started turning an angry red color. He tried to remember some of what Ms. Pillsbury tried to teach him today in his mandatory counseling session over lunch. Counting to ten, he concluded, hadn't helped too much, but he stepped one step away from Kurt all the same. "Azimio is a psycho, Kurt! Blaine probably wouldn't have been hurt that bad in a fair fight. Which I didn't want to do, anyway!"

Kurt was angry now, but saw that Dave really did look upset, and for some reason had stepped back. He was glad for the space, but he continued, "look, I think I get it that you're gay, and confused, but you can't go abusing me and then think you can decide to kiss me!"

Dave looked around nervously. "I guess not. I... I screwed up, OK! You are not to tell _anyone_, got it? I'll leave you alone, _fine_," he lowered his voice, "but I am _not_ talking about this!" He stepped in close to Kurt, and grabbed his shoulders in a tight grip that made Kurt wince. "If you tell anyone about any of this, _I will kill you_." Releasing Kurt's shoulders, he about-faced and ran down the hall, away from where Kurt had come.

Karofsky made it out to his car, slamming the door, where he buried his head in his hands over the steering wheel and sobbed. _This wasn't supposed to go like that at all_, he thought, his mind racing. _What if Kurt decides to out me?_ He worried as sobs wracked his body, and he slammed a fist against the dash board. _Damn it! Damn, damn, damn_. He didn't know what to do, and felt completely alone.

Kurt stood in a daze outside the darkened library, and felt his phone buzz with a fresh text. **Hey, you! I can't wait to see you! What time you coming over? **His body crumpled to a sitting position on the floor, as Kurt felt overwhelmed with what had just happened, and he wished for someone, anyone, to be there. He stared at his phone, momentarily frozen, and watched as a fresh text appeared. **Dude? Ready to go home?** Finn. Of course. **Yeah, 'dude', meet you at the car. **He snapped his phone shut. He hoped now to see no one at all; he didn't know what he'd tell them if anyone asked him what was on his mind.

**A/N: Very short chapter, I know. More soon. Please review! You know I'd love to hear from you. A whole lotta plot is coming, and I'm excited for that. Hope you are too.**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: yay! I got some extra time today to write, so here goes. More at the end … as usual, I don't own Glee, etc.**

_**From last chapter:**_

_Kurt stood in a daze outside the darkened library, and felt his phone buzz with a fresh text.__** Hey, you! I can't wait to see you! What time you coming over? **__His body crumpled to a sitting position on the floor, as Kurt felt overwhelmed with what had just happened, and he wished for someone, anyone, to be there. He stared at his phone, momentarily frozen, and watched as a fresh text appeared.__** Dude? Ready to go home?**____Finn. Of course.__** Yeah, 'dude', meet you at the car. **__He snapped his phone shut. He hoped now to see no one at all; he didn't know what he'd tell them if anyone asked him what was on his mind._

Finn waited beside Kurt's Navigator, and soon saw him leaving out of the West entrance. _Why not the central doors_, he wondered; the West was way out of the way from the choir room. He frowned as Kurt approached the passenger door; Kurt hadn't said anything at all, and he looked pale and upset. Shrugging, he got in the driver's seat and started the car, but not before reaching over to turn off the radio.

"Ah, Kurt, you okay?" He noticed Kurt was sitting ramrod straight in the seat beside him, unresponsive. He turned off the car.

"Finn? Why'd you turn off the car?" Kurt's voice was strained, and very quiet.

Finn sighed, thinking yet again, _I don't know how to do this_. But he remembered what Rachel had told him once about a different situation – slow down, think a moment, and do what is right, trusting that the words will come to you. _Easy for her to say, maybe_, he mused: Rachel's problem was never a lack of words! He turned to face him. "I just need to make sure you're all right." Kurt didn't show any sign yet of talking. "Dude, you were fine when I left you in the choir room. Now you're not. I don't want to talk about this while I'm driving, and... Kurt! _Just talk to me_."

Kurt studied Finn's face; he's worried, he thought, and there's no way I'm going to lie. "Finn, I'm not hurt." Finn nodded, trying to be encouraging. "But, I … I had another run-in with Karofsky."

"Shit! I just saw him go home! What the hell! Kurt, what did he do?"

Kurt studied his feet. "Do we have to have this talk right now, Finn?"

Finn placed a gentle hand on his almost-stepbrother's shoulder. His voice matched his gesture, soft, as he backed off from the anger of his last outburst. "I won't force you to do anything. But, I'm worried about you, and I can't help you if you won't talk to me."

_How to tell him that Karofsky had threatened to kill him, after he'd rebuffed him yet again. Was it his fault for not listening to him?_ Only Blaine knew about the kiss, and that Karofsky was conflicted and closeted. He just couldn't … he was full of too many feelings at once: anger, shame, a desire to turn away from it all and just not think about it, not right now. But Finn was right; going home in this state, his dad would definitely notice too. He wished Blaine were here, but also didn't know what he'd tell him: the truth would set him off too. Would Karofsky hurt him, then, or Finn? All these thoughts racing around his head crashed together, as Kurt covered his face with his hands and hated the tears he couldn't hold back.

Finn looked around, alarmed, not expecting this reaction. Awkwardly, he reached over to hug the sobbing boy beside him, murmuring, "it's okay, you're safe. It's okay, it's okay, buddy, just breathe." Inside, he felt like it was anything but okay, but he didn't know what else to do. Kurt was stiff at first, and Finn found himself wondering if maybe that hadn't been the right thing to do, but then he grasped onto Finn, burying his face on his shirt, unable to talk.

After a few minutes, Finn found some take-out napkins in the pocket of the car's door and passed them wordlessly over to Kurt. He decided to let Kurt speak when he was ready, sure that he would.

Kurt finished noisily blowing his nose, and nodded at Finn before saying, "thank you. I feel so stupid -"

"Don't, dude! You can talk to me, it's okay." Finn tried to smile encouragingly.

Kurt collected himself, exhaled, and looked straight at Finn. "I'm all right now, really. Karofsky didn't hurt me, or anything, but he did scare me." Smiling a watery smile, he begged Finn, "I'll tell you more later, but is it okay if we not talk about this more, right now?"

Finn's brow furrowed, not liking leaving whatever it was hanging. "Fine. But will you promise me something, bro?"

Kurt couldn't help but smile at Finn's use of 'bro'; he decided then and there that he liked it. He nodded yes.

"Just talk to someone tonight, all right? It doesn't have to be me, but will you promise that?"

"I promise."

Finn nodded, and turned the car on again. "Time to go home."

Burt got home later from the shop than usual; a customer had kept him waiting, and his assistant had already gone for the night. Carole called out that dinner was about ready. He brightened at the sound of her voice: he couldn't believe sometimes in his good fortune, how happy the littlest things she did made him. "Be down in a second, hon, just gonna change my shirt!"

Dinner was tasty, but Burt noticed both boys seemed preoccupied. As usual, Finn had eaten an enormous amount, but his usual smiles and banter with his mom weren't there. He'd excused himself right after eating, citing homework, and disappeared. Kurt was quiet, picked at his food, and apologized to Carole, telling her it was tasty but he just wasn't that hungry. He'd also excused himself, right after Finn. Burt looked over to Carole and took her hand. "Well, hon, I guess I have you all to myself. Did the boys seem a little quiet to you?"

"Yeah, I don't know why though. I'll go talk to Finn after I clean up."

He nodded; Finn was notoriously bad at keeping things from his mother. "I'll help," he said, getting up and wrapping her in a hug. "Maybe we've all just had a long day."

Finn had heard Kurt retreat to his room. Waiting a minute, he knocked, and Kurt answered, "it's open."

"Dude, you hardly ate anything."

"I know what you're going to say, Finn. I'm going to go to Blaine's, and I'll talk it over with him. And I'll talk to you about it too, I just need a little time."

"Okay." Finn didn't know what else to say, but he ducked out of the doorway and retreated back to his room.

Burt and Carole looked up as Kurt came back down, his messenger back on his arm. "I just wanted to drop off some homework for Blaine. Be back soon."

"It's a school night, Kurt; not too late, all right?" Burt called out as Kurt got his keys.

"Of course. See you later, Dad, Carole."

Blaine had texted him again while he was getting ready. He smiled, thinking he could get used to this; Blaine seemed to like texting him almost as much as he liked kissing and cuddling with him. He listened to some Lady Gaga on the ride over, and felt a bit stronger as he sang along to some of his favorite songs. Horrible fashion sense, sometimes, he thought, but he loved her attitude, and he adored her music.

Blaine's porch light was on, and the door was opened almost before he was done knocking.

"Come in! Glad to see you, sweetie!" and Kurt accepted Christine's hug and peck on his cheek, chuckling at how even in her heels she had to stand on tiptoe to reach that high.

"Thanks! Glad to see you, too!"

Blaine was there next, pulling him into a hug and kissing him quickly. "I've missed you! I've got good news" he continued, leading Kurt to his room. "I'm back at school tomorrow!"

Alone now, Kurt smiled at Blaine. "Oh, and have we always been this enthused for another day in pursuit of knowledge at William McKinley High School?"

"Only since this guy I really like started paying attention." Kurt laughed out loud at the cheesy wink Blaine said this with. Sitting down beside him, Blaine asked, "So, how was today?"

"Well, I found out Azimio won't be coming back, maybe ever." Kurt knew Blaine would like this.

"Great! How'd he manage to get a permanent suspension?" Blaine wondered.

"Turns out he was in juvie, before he came to McKinley, has a few too many strikes on his record. He apparently wasn't even sorry! Psychopath!"

Blaine nodded, "gotta agree there. What about Karofsky?"

Kurt decided to stick with simple facts. "He's got a two week in-school suspension; he sees his classes and follows them from the workstation in the library, and he's got mandatory counseling sessions with Ms. Pillsbury every day, and with the district shrink once a week."

Blaine frowned. _Why did Kurt look so distant as he said this._ He really did look upset. "Did something else happen today, Kurt?"

Damn, the direct gaze from those loving eyes seemed to undo him. Kurt nodded, not knowing how to start, not wanting to cry again; most of all wishing it hadn't happened at all. "Yes."

Before he knew it, he was wrapped in Blaine's embrace, and felt Blaine's breath on his neck as he whispered, "it's okay. You can tell me anything, Kurt. It's okay."

Finding it much easier to talk without having to look right at him, Kurt began to tell him. "Karofsky stole Finn's phone after glee rehearsal was done, and used it to trick me into meeting him." Kurt heard Blaine's breath hiss, and felt his arms around him tighter. "He … he told me he just wanted to talk, Blaine, but then he… he got _angry_ with me, because I don't like him, you know? And I don't know what he was thinking, but then he got _really_ angry with me, and threatened to kill me if I told anyone any of this."

Blaine was the one now who was glad his face wasn't showing. He felt almost blinded by anger – how the hell could this creep keep doing this to Kurt, and _tricking_ him,_ then scaring him with a death threat! _Blaine felt his heart hammering in his chest, breaths coming fast; as he noticed this he tried to slow down, for Kurt. He closed his eyes, and rocked Kurt into his chest, murmuring, "I'll find a way, Kurt. I swear I'll find a way to protect you."

Kurt straightened his arms, effectively separating them, and frowned at Blaine's face, finding there a fierce look that frightened him a little. He had no fear for himself, but he was afraid Blaine would hurt himself in a physical confrontation with Karofsky. "No! You _can't_, Blaine. I won't let you get hurt again!" Kurt's voice went higher as he continued. "You're not all better, and I can't let this keep happening! There has to be another way!"

Kurt wouldn't calm down until Blaine promised that he would not fight Karofsky. He was upset that Blaine would not promise to stay away from him completely, but he relented as Blaine calmed down and convinced him he would listen.

They eventually calmed enough so that when Blaine's mom appeared with some iced tea and cookies, they looked normal, and had settled in to surfing the web, looking at silly pictures of kittens with bad grammar.

Kurt didn't know that Blaine had calmed down when he thought of a plan. He intended to keep his promise to Kurt, but he decided for now that Kurt didn't need to know his plan. As Kurt was pulling away after a sweet goodbye kiss, Blaine whipped out his cell phone, and smiled as Wes picked up.

**A/N: Thanks again to my reviewers, and to all of you reading this. I've got to dash off to work, but I feel I owe a debt of gratitude to msdarque, WritingGeek27116, DancingIntheRayne, loquaciouslauryn, OrangeCoyote, and all who are following or have favorited this story – your interest has helped me make the time to squeeze this in! That being said, I'm off to go work the night shift. As for what's coming: I hope you love it! And you know I love hearing from you, and getting your thoughts. Remember, I do value your feedback, and as always, my goal is to make a better fic – with your help.**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: A record, I know; third chapter in a 24 hr period! More later, still don't own Glee etc. (though I am finding I do like Ryan's tweets quite a lot).**

_From last chapter..._

_Kurt didn't know that Blaine had calmed down when he thought of a plan. He intended to keep his promise to Kurt, but he decided for now that Kurt didn't need to know his plan. As Kurt was pulling away after a sweet goodbye kiss, Blaine whipped out his cell phone, and smiled as Wes picked up._

Blaine got to school early that morning, and waited near the entrance to the library. Only a few minutes passed before Dave Karofsky trudged towards the glass door, and Blaine stepped in front of him.

"Hey, Karofsky."

Dave's head snapped up, as he took in the sight of Blaine, that damn jerk. He tried again to remember how to stay calm, and closing his eyes for a moment he stepped back and took in a deep breath.

Blaine could only watch, a little puzzled; this hadn't been the reaction he'd expected. He waited for the linebacker to speak.

"Hey, Anderson. What are you doing here?" Dave stared at him with slightly narrowed eyes. He hated this guy, no question: it looked like Kurt _liked_ him, and he had the annoying habit of always being around when all he'd wanted was to look at Kurt. Or, shoulder slam him, he admitted to himself. Whatever. _He got in the way_, and he knew his attack on Blaine had only upset Kurt even more. _Damn. I cannot get a break,_ he thought.

Blaine decided to try the direct approach. "I know what you've done to Kurt. And I know what you said to him yesterday." Blaine watched as fear flitted across the bigger boy's face, replaced by a sneering mask.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Really." Blaine sighed; he really did want to try this the way Kurt would probably want him to first, but his heart wasn't in it. _Okay, here goes._ "I know it can be hard to come out -"

"What the fuck?" Dave's voice sounded higher, maybe panicked, Blaine wondered? "I … I am not talking to you! You don't know _anything_!" and he tried to edge by Blaine and get into the library.

"No? I think I do." Blaine stood his ground. "Look, we can talk about this -"

"I have _nothing_ to talk about with you!"

Blaine closed his eyes for a moment, clenched and unclenched his hands. "Fine." His tone was flat, dangerous. "We don't have to talk about it." He stepped into Dave's space a little. "But you are _not_ going to talk to Kurt anymore, got it?"

"I'm not taking orders from you, you freak!" Dave spluttered out, and pushed Blaine as he went to push the library door open.

Blaine nodded his head, 'no'. Not like I expected us to be hanging around singing Kumbaya or anything, but that doesn't bode well for Plan A. Fine. _I like Plan B better anyway_. With that, he flipped open his phone and texted Wes (who he knew would be in class by now) **I'll be there by 5. Thanks for everything, you guys rock.**

Kurt was glad the day went by without incident. No slams, slushies, nothing. He actually enjoyed his lessons, and found himself looking forward to lunch with Blaine, and Glee later. He was also glad to notice that his ankle hurt less and less, and thanked Coach Sylvester's connections yet again for finding him such good physical therapists. It was shaping up to be a great day.

Blaine found Kurt without any trouble at lunch. Kurt smiled at him, waved him over. "Hey, Blaine! I was wondering, can we go somewhere where we can talk?"

Blaine swallowed nervously. He knew he'd spent so much time with him since that first kiss, and worried if Kurt was somehow going to dump him. Did 'we need to talk' _ever_ end well? "Uh, sure; you pick a place." And he followed behind him, not having far to go until Kurt ushered him into the astronomy room.

Kurt turned around to look at Blaine. He was back to his usual school uniform, mostly black, except for the purple Starkid tee. He smiled at Blaine; if anyone could rock this awful look, it was the boy standing right in front of him, and he looked hot.

Blaine relaxed, looking at Kurt's smile. "So, what's up?"

"Blaine, you know I worry about you?" Kurt's face was full of concern. "I mean, today I found myself wondering if you had headaches again, if you felt ready to be back, if your ribs hurt. I think of you all the time" here he smiled sweetly, "but I worry too."

"You don't need to -"

"I do." Kurt stepped in so close, and kissed Blaine lightly on the lips, holding there longer than they'd done before. Blaine sunk into the feeling of bliss, and felt cheated when Kurt stepped away, but now he was holding Blaine's hands. "Blaine, violence isn't the answer. Not to mention I can't take you getting hurt again." Seeing Blaine's frankly puzzled face Kurt hurried on, "I worry about all the knives. What if you got outnumbered and they turned them on you? What if someone tells a teacher and you get thrown out?" He stopped suddenly; why on earth was Blaine _grinning_ at him?

"You're adorable." Blaine crooned, and Kurt felt his heart melt, looking into Blaine's eyes, which were dancing with mischief. "There's only one thing for it: _disarm me_."

"What?!" Kurt felt so confused. He knew Blaine had knives in holders on his legs, and at least a couple more on his body. He didn't want to touch them, he just wanted them gone.

Blaine smiled a dazzling smile at Kurt's perplexed face. "Do you trust me?"

Kurt snorted. "Really, Blaine? You're quoting Alladin at me?"

Blaine's expression turned to bemusement, a quirky smile playing on his lips, eyebrows up. _What the hell is so damn funny?_ Kurt wanted to know.

"Fine! I'll play. Yes, I trust you, _street rat._"

Blaine just pointed to where he needed to: first to his legs, then the pockets on his vest, and the chest pocket, where Kurt gingerly removed the switchblade, holding it as if it were a poisonous snake. Kurt looked at the black lab table, where there were now no less than five knives arrayed. He looked at Blaine, and didn't get it: why did he look like a freaking Cheshire cat?

Blaine reached for the switchblade, and opened it. Then, while Kurt looked on in horror, he plunged it into his own arm. "Blaine!" he squeaked out. Blaine laughed, as he showed Kurt that his arm was in fact just fine.

"I'm so sorry," he finally got out, wiping a few stray tears from laughing so hard. "I really did mean to tell you before this! It's okay, take a good look."

Kurt started to relax, and examined the small knife in his hands. "It's a theatrical prop! Bastard! I was worried sick about you!" He swatted Blaine's shoulder, hard. With a gesture encompassing them all, he asked, "all of them?"

Blaine nodded. "Yup. All of them."

"Why?"

Blaine looked down, feeling kind of foolish. "Part of the costume." Looking up, he met Kurt's eyes. "You gotta admit, it kind of worked – these are top quality; cost as much as the real ones!"

"Okay, I'll grant you that." Kurt's eyes narrowed as he accused Blaine, "But that first day of school – that was no prop knife!"

"No, it wasn't. But remember, I told you, Justin was in on it. It was to scare the jocks a bit. I didn't intend to scare you too. Sorry about that!" Kurt had to admit, Blaine did look a little sheepish. "Also, and this is important, Kurt." He looked pleadingly Kurt's way. "I have never, ever, knifed anyone. That knife was a special throwing knife, not actually very good for anything else. And I only ever brought it to school for that one day."

"Oh, Blaine" Kurt forgave him, and was so relieved. He looked at him critically, "they found out, didn't they? The teachers."

"You caught that. Yes. The day I threatened Karofsky with this," he pointed to the prop switchblade. "Don't you think I would have gotten expelled or something if it was real? They didn't like it, but decided not to press the issue if I promised never to take them to school again. Well, okay, I did lie there."

Kurt was happy to discover that Blaine's costume was much more detailed than he'd imagined. He felt he could understand the motivation: last time he'd been in public school, apparently Blaine had been bullied much worse than he'd been, and had chosen to adopt the scary persona he wore at McKinley to make the bullies (_who were of course cowards_) choose not to mess with him. He had to admire the almost Gaga-esque theatricality of it all. But he was also saddened at the layers Blaine felt he needed to wrap himself in to feel safe, and how isolated his choice had made him here.

"Okay, so no fights, all right?" Kurt hoped Blaine would agree.

"No fights. Just so you know, I don't like fighting." Noticing Kurt's mildly surprised expression he clarified, "boxing is different."

"All right. Blaine, thank you."

"For what?" Blaine was rewarded with Kurt's beautiful glasz eyes fixed on him with a look that made his insides melt.

"Trusting me. Promising me to, you know, not fight. Caring about me."

This time Blaine initiated the hug that turned to another chaste kiss, that turned to a much more passionate kiss as Kurt opened his mouth to him for the first time. They separated just a little, still touching foreheads, grins plastered across both their faces. They were startled by the sound of the bell, and laughed when they realized they hadn't even remembered to eat.

**A/N: Hope you've enjoyed this fluffy klaineness; and now you (and Kurt) know a bit more about Blaine. Except for why he's texting Wes. No spoilers. Nope. Can't drag 'em out of me. Will update soon. Love to hear from you, and I am so honored by the people who've chosen to follow and/or favorite this story. My biggest wish is that you enjoy it all!**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: I am so grateful by the ongoing support of you, the readers! It encourages me so much, and your feedback definitely helps the creative process. So, on with the show! Still don't own Glee, or Disney, or any songs that crop up here, etc.**

"I think your plan is a little tame," Sebastian drawled, after Wes and Blaine had explained what the problem was, and how Blaine proposed to address it. Both boys glared at Sebastian, who ignored their obvious irritation and unfolded his body from the loveseat he'd been half reclining in. "Don't get me wrong, it's a good start." Blaine bristled at the friendly yet condescending tone. "I just think the song selection could use a little work."

Blaine didn't know this new Warbler, who'd transferred in this year. He did notice that the other boys seemed to give him plenty of room, and that he'd never raised his voice during the discussion they'd just had, but everyone seemed to listen to him. _I'll have to work with him, or at least listen, like it or not,_ Blaine thought. _Fine_. Adopting a friendly tone, he addressed the tall Warbler, who was now standing beside him, with Wes and David. "What do you have in mind?"

Sebastian purred, "I thought you'd never ask."

The next morning Kurt hurriedly slammed his locker shut, and hustled to reach his first class on time. As he passed the library, Karofsky darted out, and blocked his way as the hallway emptied of students eager to be on time.

"Hey."

Kurt looked at Karofsky, stunned into silence, before finally answering back, "um, hi; I'm about to be late..." and he waved his arm to indicate he really had to go, abandoning the movement as he noticed that Karofsky didn't acknowledge it.

"Class'll still be there. Don't sweat it." Karofsky looked around quickly at the now-empty hallway. "I just want to talk to you -" He cursed inwardly at Kurt's look of alarm. "You don't need to be so afraid of me," he said, his voice quiet, soft.

Kurt shook his head, inhaled sharply, and hesitated before saying, "You know you're not supposed to talk to me at all. You agreed to that as part of being allowed to do in-school suspension."

Dave's eyes narrowed. "Really? Didn't think you went for the law-abiding type. Your little _boyfriend_ looks like he's fresh out of juvie."

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" Kurt yelled, angry now. "My type is definitely not a Neantherthal like you!" He dropped his voice to just above a whisper, adding, "I don't believe in outing, but you need to talk to _someone_ – but _not_ me!"

Dave looked up, hearing steps coming towards them before Kurt did. As he got closer to the two, Mr. Schuester called out, "Kurt! Get to class!" Kurt nodded and left without another word. "David, come with me."

Blaine caught up with Kurt at lunch, meeting him with a big smile.

"Any plans for lunch today?" He smiled at Kurt.

"Do they include food?" Kurt bantered back.

"I believe they do. I even brought some of my favorite biscotti to share with you. Interested?" Blaine followed Kurt, who was heading towards the Glee table.

"I am! Too bad they don't sell coffee here, to go with it."

Blaine nodded agreement, easing himself onto the bench. "That could be a real money-maker, you know?"

"I'll keep it in mind if I ever run for Student Council President." They had both brought lunches, and were soon joined by Finn, Mike Chang, and Tina.

"Hey, Kurt!" Tina swooped down, and greeted Kurt with a quick half-hug, before settling in close to Mike. "You going to introduce me?"

Mike was on the far side from them, so Tina didn't see the look of mild alarm that crossed Mike's face as Tina turned a sweet smile to Blaine, and waited for Kurt's answer.

"Of course! Tina, this is Blaine, he's a transfer student from Dalton; he's a junior, like us."

Blaine smiled politely, and extended a hand for Tina to shake, "pleased to meet you!"

Tina glanced over to at Mike, who was calm now, and turned back to Blaine. "Dalton! Like in Dalton Academy? I think we're up against them in Sectionals this year."

"I think you're right."

Tina took a chance, and fixed a conspiratorial expression on her cute face as she asked him, "Blaine, do you sing?"

Mike and Finn looked gobsmacked at this; they knew he was a good kicker and was on their football team (sort of, since he only participated in a limited way) and they all knew he did fierce boxing workouts in the gym. This clearly hadn't crossed their minds as a possibility. Kurt hadn't gotten around to this topic yet with Blaine, and was mildly disappointed that Tina had beaten him to it.

Blaine was oblivious to all of this, and just smiled back at Tina, and told her, "I do! I play a couple instruments as well, and I did sing at Dalton too."

Tina fixed them all with an_ I told you so_ look, and waved to Rachel as she joined them at the table. "I'll be honest, I did kind of know that."

Blaine's eyebrows shot up comically. "What? How?"

Rachel eased herself into a tiny space next to Finn, and answered for Tina, "Well, if any of _you_ paid any attention to researching the competition, you might have noticed that our transfer student here bears a resemblance to their lead singer from last year." All of the guys, including Kurt, now looked mystified.

"First, Rach, who does that? And why did Tina know all about this?" Finn demanded.

The girls exchanged a glance, and giggled, "well, when we were at Mercedes' house for girls night last Friday I showed them a clip of the Warblers singing from last year." Rachel looked very pleased with herself. "They're our only real competition at Sectionals this time; don't worry, the other group is no threat."

Tina chimed in, "Rachel was the one who recognized you, or thought she did. Until now, we weren't sure."

Rachel fixed Blaine with an intense gaze and asked, "So, when will you be joining New Directions?"

Later that day...

Dave Karofsky had elected to leave the school after the practices were over. He didn't feel like socializing with anyone, and this way he got his homework out of the way before he even left the building. He'd been able to talk his way out of further trouble this morning, but not before promising to stay away from Kurt and Blaine. He felt like he was in prison; not that school was all that great, but his days of in-school suspension were freaking tedious.

He nodded to the librarian, who actually had been pretty nice to him so far, even letting him have a cup of tea when she got herself one in the afternoons. She motioned him over, finishing closing the drawers and shutting the computers down for the day. "David, you have a note here."

"Thanks, Ms. Evans. See you tomorrow."

"Goodbye, see you then."

He unfolded it: _Please report to me before you go home_, and it was signed, Coach Beiste. He hoped it was good news: he hated missing practices, and maybe his good behavior so far was going to lead to a break.

The hallway was dark, but the door was unlocked as he let himself into the workout room, where the Coach's tiny office occupied a corner off the side.

"Glad you could make it." Blaine stepped in front of him, and the lights came on as he was joined by about 10 guys who materialized out of nowhere.

"What the hell?" Dave looked around, panicked. The doors on each side were now blocked by a couple of guys each. They were wearing nondescript workout gear, but he'd never seen them before.

The unfamiliar guys now circled around Dave, and Blaine was now flanked by a tall skinny guy with a preppy hairdo and a serious-looking Asian guy. The Asian kid snapped his fingers, and sang out:

Bum bum bum bummm

and then all but the three in front of him started do-wopping to a background vocal; and then the tall kid started with:

Ohhh, baby girl, where you at?

Got no strings, got men attached

Can't stop that feelin' for long, no

He kept on singing, while all the guys around weaved in and out, singing in perfect time. This wasn't making any sense to Dave, but it sounded intimidating as hell! Now Blaine stepped up and picked up,

Ohhh, see all these illusions just take us too long

And I want it bad...

What the hell! Dave began to wonder what these guys were going to do to him. It was clear he couldn't escape, but this song was weird; it was like an assault or something! Now the three guys in front of him were singing together:

When I get you alone

When I get you alone, babe

He couldn't take it, he cried out "Please! Stop! Stop!" and he crouched down crying, shielding his head with his arms. Wes motioned to the group to cut, and the singing abruptly stopped.

Blaine waited a moment, and addressed the terrified teen. "Fine. Some of us believe no means no. You've got to leave Kurt alone. And you need to deal with your shit."

Dave couldn't even talk, as Blaine and the other guys filed out. He was overwhelmed, scared, and starting to feel lucky he was still in one piece. He jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Get up, bear cub."

The voice was soft and unfamiliar, and he felt a hand now helping him up. "Why did you just call me that?"

**A/N: Warbler attack, anyone? Let me know if you think I finally found a use for that song! I'd love to know your thoughts. Did anyone see it coming? It was planned all along, but as usual, I take my time in getting there. So, thoughts? Tina/Blaine/Rachel interaction? What do you think is next? I'll try to update soon, I know this is a cliffhanger (but hey, at least Blaine's not doing time in the hospital, right?**

**Again, thank you to my reviewers: it really is thanks to you and the readers that I feel inspired to put in this much time to keep the updates coming. I hope you're enjoying the ride! Loquaciouslauryn, msdarque, writingGeek27116, OrangeCoyote, DancingintheRayne – I've PM'ed all of you, you should know that seeing messages from you feels like opening the door and finding a friend on the other side.**

**Good night, friends! I'll be working tonight, but will be happy to check in with you soon!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Sorry, much as I'd like to, sometimes I don't get to update daily. But I've been very encouraged by all the support from you, the readers and reviewers, and am glad to present you with this chapter. As always, I don't own Glee, songs or products you might see, etc.**

_From last chapter..._

_He couldn't take it, he cried out "Please! Stop! Stop!" and he crouched down crying, shielding his head with his arms. Wes motioned to the group to cut, and the singing abruptly stopped._

_Blaine waited a moment, and addressed the terrified teen. "Fine. Some of us believe no means no. You've got to leave Kurt alone. And you need to deal with your shit."_

_Dave couldn't even talk, as Blaine and the other guys filed out. He was overwhelmed, scared, and starting to feel lucky he was still in one piece. He jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder._

_"Get up, bear cub."_

_The voice was soft and unfamiliar, and he felt a hand now helping him up. "Why did you just call me that?"_

Blaine turned to the Warblers as they filed out of the workout room. "Guys, that was awesome! Epic!"

They were busy high-fiving, and Blaine had promised to reward them on Saturday with a feast at his house (they'd arranged in advance to go back to Dalton right away tonight though; it was a school night and they all had piles of homework). Blaine turned around, as a loud, strong voice broke through the celebration.

"It's well after hours. I'd like to see some student I.D.s – right now."

Wes looked uncertainly over at Blaine, and all the Warblers were suddenly quiet. Blaine stepped forward. "Hello, Coach Sylvester." He swallowed, taking in her glowering expression.

"They don't have them, do they." She said, very quietly.

"No, Coach, they don't. They're my old glee club from Dalton Academy; we were just using the workout room for a choreography session."

Wes looked impressed. He chimed in, "that's right. Blaine was always really good at helping us work out our choreography, and so we decided to -"

"Enough. Any damage in there?" Sue's steely gaze bored into Blaine, ignoring anyone else.

"No, Coach. None, we were really just using the space."

"Strange choice." Sue pursed her lips. "So, are we all done trespassing here?"

"Yes, Coach. Sorry. I'll ask next time," Blaine added.

"Fine. I'll just go lock up." And she headed into the workout room.

Wes' eyes were huge as he stared at Blaine. When the Coach was gone, he whispered, "I don't know who she is, but she's scary. And huge! Like a valkyrie or something!"

"Scary, yes." Blaine looked a little panicked. "God, I hope they're out of there!"

_Minutes prior..._

"Come on, I swear I don't bite." The tall kid with the preppy haircut pulled Dave Karofsky to standing, then added, "well, not usually on the first date anyway."

"Who are you? What's going on!" Dave still felt shaky, and was trying to pull himself together.

"The name's Sebastian Smythe. Come with me," and he grabbed Dave's arm and headed out one of the side exits, towards the football field and the parking lot.

Dave was still in a daze, but he didn't object. Whatever else was going on, he sensed he was not in physical danger. But he still felt like he could get sick any minute, and leaned heavily against the cool cement wall once they got outside.

Sebastian studied the scared, sweaty boy in front of him. He smirked, he knew his song approach had had the effect Blaine had wanted: this kid would probably give Blaine and anyone associated with him a wide berth for a long time. Blaine didn't know his agenda, though; why he'd asked to be the one to talk to the bully if the plan had worked (he'd never doubted it would). He preferred to be alone with the kid for this anyway.

"Hey, _hey_! _Breathe_, all right. I'm just going to talk to you first, okay?"

Dave noted the boy's concerned look, which somehow also managed to have a ghost of a smirk to it. He nodded agreement, still not ready to talk, unsure of his voice even if he tried.

Sebastian laid a hand on his arm, gentler this time, and led him over to a bench nearby, motioned for Dave to sit, while he remained standing. "You're in the closet. I get it." Taking in the terrified expression that returned to the boy's face, he hastily added, "No one is going to out you. I swear. Blaine and Kurt both feel pretty strongly about that. And, at least in Blaine's mind, _this doesn't count_: we're from Dalton Academy, which doesn't really mix with you public school types. And your secret is safe with us – who would we tell?"

Dave relaxed slightly at Sebastian's assurance. The tall boy went on, "but it's not good to stay there, in the closet, I mean. Hardly any fun at all," he drawled, then dropped to a squat in front of Dave and spoke to him at very close range. "You need someone to talk to. And, no, it can't be Kurt; we both know that wouldn't be a good idea – you're too mixed up about him. And so," he stood up, and smiled broadly at Dave, "meet your very own _Fairy Godfather_" and he chuckled as his smirk now reached his whole face.

Dave stared at him hard, then spluttered, "what the hell?!"

Sebastian chuckled, "I've appointed myself your guide. _I'm gay_. I know, you would have never guessed, right?" he smirked. "And you're coming with me, Bear Cub."

"What? Coming with you where?" Some of the panic had returned to his voice and demeanor.

"Keep your panties on, partner. Blaine said there's an absurdly named coffee shop near here. Let's check it out."

Blaine walked the Warblers back to their cars. "Guys, thank you again, you have no idea how much I appreciate it."

David waggled a finger at him, "Saturday. Dinner. Your mom better cook a lot!"

Nick added, "will she really make those dumplings again? Blaine, those were like, the best ever!"

Several other boys chimed in with their memories of Christine Anderson's cooking, and Blaine smiled at them all. He really did miss them.

Wes pounded a fist into his other hand, simulating striking a gavel, and they all (comically) shut up to hear him. "The cake, Blaine. There will be The Cake, right?"

"Yes. Yes there will be. I'll be sure of that."

"All right, then. Warblers, back to Dalton!" And with smiles, hugs, and a few scattered fist bumps, they were off. Blaine smiled, happy at how it had all worked out so well. Evidently, Sue hadn't walked in on Dave and Sebastian, as she'd quickly exited once she locked up. He couldn't wait to tell Kurt.

_Some time later..._

"You did what!" Kurt's voice was dangerously high, and shrill.

"No, no, Kurt, it was great, really! I swear, no one laid a hand on him. I promised you I wouldn't do that!"

"So, intimidating the hell out of him with a dozen strangers, with _that song_, of all things, to a guy who's so closeted he has tea with Mr. Tumnus daily, you don't see a problem with that at all!" Kurt's voice was quieter, but even over the phone Blaine couldn't mistake the dangerous edge to his voice.

"But Kurt!"

"Did you even hang around to talk to him?"

"No, but -"

"So, you're not sure what kind of condition he's in right now."

"Yeah, but, I didn't leave him alone -"

"His worst nightmare, you know, is _being outed_. So much so that he threatened to _kill_ me if I told anyone. You don't think throwing fuel on that fire is a problem?"

Blaine shook his head. This wasn't going at all like he'd expected. He'd thought the plan was great: yes, it did involve intimidation, but he'd kept his word and hadn't laid a hand on him. "But I didn't hurt him, and I didn't out him, Kurt!"

Kurt paused, eyes closed, trying to get through to Blaine. He knew Dave's state of mind was fragile, he'd seen that closer than he'd wanted to. He'd educated himself on what guys like Dave might be going though; guys who were very closeted, but just as subject to raging teenage hormones as their straight counterparts, and in Dave's case, totally frustrated. He sighed, then said to Blaine, "I'm glad you didn't hurt him _physically_, but I'm not sure things are as safe as you think. You don't know how much damage you might have done there."

"Kurt!"

"No, Blaine, let me finish. I wish I could congratulate you on this, but I can't; it could have some horrible consequences. I'm sorry, I know you thought you were doing the right thing." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Just give me some space. I don't want to talk about this right now. Good night, Blaine."

"Good night, Kurt." Blaine whispered, and heard the click as Kurt ended the call. How could this have happened? Kurt being upset with him wasn't even on the list of possible outcomes he'd had in mind. He wrote off a quick text to Kurt, and waited.

**A/N: Trouble in klainedom? Well, some. Blaine just didn't see this coming at all. More soon! But not before I mention a few of my reviewers – when I see your reviews or P.M.s it's like greeting a friend, so lovely. Loquaciouslauryn, you always encourage me, and I love the stuff you're writing too. Check her out, friends! She just posted story number 50! She writes some of the funnest klaine fluff around (though she's not at all limited to that). ImJustDefyingGravityx3, glad you're loving the story, and fanfic means never having to say you're sorry (OK, I made that up/stole it from Love Story) but what I mean is, this is where we come for fun: it is not a place to feel mad at yourself if you're off for a few days. Ever. I mean it! Tammywolfson, you're new to my reviews, and welcome aboard! BlurtitallOut – you have been so amazingly generous in your reviews, and I've loved chatting with you as well; you do inspire me to do better, always. Msdarque, always love hearing from you, I enjoy your feedback and comments so much.**


	22. Chapter 22

Blaine stared at his phone, willing Kurt to text him back. Or call. He sent another text. **Kurt, please, I don't want you to be mad at me. Please can't we talk?**

Why did I do that? How can I be so stupid? He couldn't believe he was in this situation, and felt desperate to communicate with Kurt. He composed another text, then deleted it before sending. He paced in his room, and returned to his phone on the desk; nothing. **What can I do to make it right?** He texted again. He paced; Kurt wasn't responding. Was he even looking? He tried calling, and was dismayed when it went straight to voicemail. This was horrible; Blaine tried to tamp down the panic building in him. Just when things were going so well, and he knew he was crazy for Kurt and had felt sure Kurt felt the same, he was shut out, unable to explain himself further, unable to be forgiven.

Blaine angrily kicked the frame of his bed, and instantly was rewarded with pain to his bare foot. Like that helps things, he berated himself. He threw his boxing glove at the wall, where it made a dull thunk before slipping to the floor. Then his phone buzzed, and he raced over to see the text, but was perplexed with the unknown number it came from, and the odd message. **Mischief managed. Wes'll tell you all about it. I'm too busy right now. SS**

He called Wes and was relieved when the older boy picked up. "Wes?"

He heard the smile in the head of the Warbler Council's voice, "Hey, Blaine. What's up, bro?"

"Who the hell is SS. What's this about?"

Wes laughed, and proceeded to fill Blaine in on what he knew of Sebastian's coffee trip with Karofsky. He wrapped up with, "So, it seems like an odd pairing, but I think at least your nemesis has someone to talk to now. Who knows, maybe it'll manage to keep Sebastian out of trouble for a while."

"Thanks, Wes. Um, and thank Sebastian too, I guess. What am I going to do about Kurt?"

Wes frowned. "Don't give up, Blaine. He doesn't know the whole story, maybe this'll change his mind a bit. Good luck." They said their good nights, and Blaine texted Kurt again, and waited. **I have an update on Karofsky, I think we should talk about it.** There, that was pretty open-ended, right? Kurt was definitely a curious type, surely he'd call or text him now?

Blaine had to face the fact as the minutes slipped by that this wasn't going to happen tonight. He tried to do homework, then fiddled aimlessly with his guitar, and then went down to the basement to practice his throwing knives. He couldn't settle down, and then smelled the aroma of food preparation and joined his mom in the kitchen.

"Sweetie!" She kissed him on the cheek. "You got time to help me? Your auntie Mimi's coming over to help cook for Saturday tomorrow night, but I thought I'd get a start on some of the dishes tonight."

"Sure thing, mom. You don't know how happy the guys are that they're coming! I think they miss you." Helping his mom in the kitchen always took his mind off his problems. "What do you want me to do?"

The next day, Blaine was at school extra early; he'd gotten coffees for himself and Kurt at the Lima Bean, and was hoping the gesture would help him break the ice with Kurt. His face broke into a huge smile as he saw the Navigator slide into its usual spot.

"Kurt! Hello, Finn." He motioned to Kurt. "I got you some coffee – good morning!"

Then he noticed Kurt's face, and the icy expression in his eyes. "Thanks, Blaine." He took the proferred cup, and added, "Gotta get to class."

Blaine's face fell as he took in Kurt's form as he walked away. No. The unanswered texts hadn't been some sort of mistake. Kurt was pissed at him. This was not going to be a good day, at all.

**A/N: Sorry, it's short, I know. More tomorrow!**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Don't own Glee, or other products/intellectual property you might see here. I prefer to think of it as borrowing with love!**

Ms. Pillsbury's face was cutely squinched up as she tried to find just the right words to help Kurt. Her hands had rifled through her quirky assortment of pamphlets; none of these were going to help. _You can do this, Emma!_ She encouraged herself inwardly. Straightening in her chair, she then addressed the boy in front of her.

"Kurt, first of all, I want to thank you for coming to talk to me about this."

He nodded, his face still blank, as he seemed to recover from telling her what he knew of Dave's encounter with the Warblers, and his indirect question of how to talk to Blaine about it.

"You do know I can't talk to you about another student, especially one who's in counseling with me."

"I know, I'm not trying to overstep -"

"No, Kurt, I know you're not." She smiled at him reassuringly. Returning to her mental list, she went on, "secondly, I am impressed that you're able to care about David, in light of how he's treated you in the past. I'm not telling you anything that isn't known when I remind you he's seeing me, as well as the district psychologist. We're trying to get him the help he needs."

She studied Kurt a moment more; he looked, tired, sad, and in danger of becoming the closed-off boy she'd known before. Will had mentioned to her how much happier he'd seemed lately, and she'd seen glimpses of that too. He had now shared quite a bit about his relationship with the transfer student, Blaine, and it was clear he was upset at where things stood right now. "Kurt … there is a third thing. I know it's kind of personal, so please tell me if I'm overstepping -"

"No, please! I want to hear what you have to say." His voice was quiet, but everything in his posture spoke of how tense he was right now.

"All right. We don't really know what happened yet, do we? Neither of us were there, Kurt, and neither of us has spoken to David, and you've hardly spoken to Blaine." She cleared her throat before continuing. "It sounds like there's more to this story. Maybe you should hear him out?"

He didn't speak, but nodded in a way that looked like he was really considering it. "Also, Kurt? I'm going to share with you some of my observations about you and Blaine; maybe it'll help you see your way. You've told me how you're upset with him. But you've also told me, even while you're upset with him, things that you seem to love about him, as if you couldn't help yourself; as if you really don't want me to think badly of him."

Kurt looked at her with frank surprise. He had no idea what to say, and just waited for her to continue. She did.

"You've painted me a picture of someone you care about. You're hurt because you usually admire him so much. Most people can't see their high school crushes clearly, Kurt. But you seem to see him in an adult, mature way; loving many things, not loving maybe others so much, but you're seeing a real person, warts and all. If he sees you as clearly, and still feels strongly for you, I'd say at the minimum you should hear him out."

Kurt's face flushed pink, and a look of resolve came to his features as he stood up. "Ms. Pillsbury, you have no idea how much this helped me. Thank you!"

Her smile was unreserved as she stood up to walk him out. "Kurt, any time. You are so welcome."

Kurt walked out of her office, glad that she'd agreed to see him on no notice during his lunch hour. He didn't even notice Dave Karofsky, who gave him plenty of room in the hallway as he headed in for his daily talk with the counselor.

_A short time before …_

Blaine felt so frustrated. He'd looked everywhere he could think of and had failed to find Kurt during lunch. He trudged off to his next class, doubting it would be worth his time, knowing that his concentration just wasn't there. He checked his phone again. No new texts.

The bell rang for the last class, and Kurt reminded Finn, "I'll get you later, when practice is over."

"Got it, dude! See ya!"

Kurt had insisted on picking his dad up and going with him to his cardiology appointment. Burt had protested again this morning, but Kurt had held firm: he wanted to be there for him. Eventually Burt had relented, thanking God yet again that his son, who could be a royal pain at times, loved him so much.

_After dinner..._

"Carole, that was great! Maybe I can have a second roll with some butter on it this time?" he teased Kurt.

She smiled at her soon-to-be husband. "Maybe not. One great report card isn't going to change your diet." She kissed him on the top of the head as she got up to get out small bowls for dessert. "Save some room for dessert."

"You know I love you, right?" Kurt smiled at Carole. She really did make his dad so happy, and looked out for him so well. "I made some of the vanilla pudding that you love, dad, to celebrate your good checkup, and it'll be topped with crushed raspberries and dark chocolate shavings." He busied himself preparing the first dish, and handed it to Burt with a cheery, "bon appetit!"

"Dude! That stuff is like, so great!" Finn was always such a receptive audience for dessert. Kurt rewarded him with a light smirk, "yes, Finn, I _did_ make extra. You're welcome."

The kitchen was filled with the happy sounds of a family enjoying dessert and good news. Kurt finished his first, then excused himself and sprinted up to his room.

"Wonder what the kid's up to?" Burt whispered. Carole just shrugged, and returned to enjoying the dessert. The kid really did know how to make healthy desserts that were just perfect.

Kurt paced for a few minutes, then laid out the fabric on his bed. This awesome Kaffe Fassett jacquard, with its threads of silver and gold interwoven onto a black background cloth with a subtle not-quite-paisley black on black pattern, had cost him twelve oil changes. That was how he calculated sometimes; his dad paid him five dollars per oil change, so he'd worked hard to earn the money for it. It's worth it, he nodded, knowing exactly what to do with it, and deciding it was time. Smoothing the tissue paper pattern he'd designed over it, he picked up his scissors and proceeded to make the first cut.

Finn and Carole put away the last clean pot, and happily headed out of the kitchen; Finn, ready to join Burt watching the White Sox game (they didn't have a chance this year, but they didn't care), and Carole headed to her favorite chair in the living room to curl up with her novel. The phone rang, and Burt volunteered to get it. "It's okay, sit, sit! I got it."

Stepping into the kitchen, Burt picked up. Damn! He never had gotten used to looking at the caller I.D. so he just answered as usual.

"Hello!"

"Hello, Mr. Hummel?" The voice sounded familiar to Burt, but he wasn't positive right away.

"Yup, that's me. Who am I talking to?"

"Sorry to bother you, sir." Oh, now he knew; it was Blaine – kid always sounded so formal. "I was wondering if I could speak to Kurt?"

Burt's face furrowed at this; Kurt had famously declared the landline obsolete, and usually took all his calls on his cell phone. Burt hadn't ever heard Blaine on the phone for this reason. "Um, sure, I can get him. Hold on." He stopped himself from simply yelling up the stairs, opting instead to go knock on Kurt's door to tell him about the call. "Kurt? Phone's for you."

Kurt didn't come to the door right away, and Burt saw why: he was clearly in the middle of a project, and hated being interrupted when he was working. Burt said, handing the phone over, "it's Blaine."

Kurt nodded 'no'. When it seemed his dad wasn't moving from the spot, he whispered, "tell him I can't take it right now."

He'd already turned back to whatever he was doing, so he didn't see the look of confusion that crossed Burt's face as he quietly closed the door and said to Blaine, "sorry, he's not taking it right now." Walking to the other end of the hallway, he asked, "you two have an argument or something?" He was horrified to hear a sniff and sounds like the boy was maybe crying. He said, very softly, "do you want to talk about it, son?"

Blaine hadn't told Burt very much, not trusting himself to be able to speak coherently. He was clearly upset because Kurt wouldn't respond to his texts or calls, and Blaine couldn't find him at lunch or after school, and now he still wasn't talking. Burt sighed, wishing for only the millionth time ever that Elizabeth were alive – he figured she'd be so much better with this. Then an idea came to him, based on the occasional times Kurt had frozen him out. "Blaine? What did he actually say to you, last time you talked?"

As if he could forget, Blaine thought, bitterly. "Well, sir, he told me he knew I thought I was doing the right thing. Then he said to give him some space, that he just didn't want to talk about it just then. And he said good night. That was it."

Burt felt like he'd solved it; that was familiar, all right. "Kid, I don't want you to panic. That's what Kurt _does_ when he's upset sometimes. If he told you he needs some space, he really does mean he will talk to you; but not until he's worked out whatever is eating him. Trust me, I know." Burt thought he heard another sniffle, and went on. "Blaine, if he didn't want to talk to you ever again, believe me, he would have said it. Plainly. It sounds to me like you just need to be patient, a little."

"Really? Do you think so?" Blaine's voice still sounded sad, but it had an edge of hope to it too.

"I do, kid. Take it easy, and try again later, okay?"

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I will!"

Burt walked back to his son's room, and knocked again. "Kurt? Can I talk to you for a minute?"

_A little later …_

"Damn! That ump is _blind_! He so totally was safe!" Finn yelled at the t.v.

"Idiot needs new glasses! Figures. Damn Sox can't catch a break." Burt sighed. Carole looked up from her book and smiled at them. _Her men_. She loved them both, and loved the way they hung out together sometimes.

The phone rang again, and this time Finn was already on his way to the kitchen, to get a snack. "I got it! On my way anyway!" He picked it up on the third ring. "Hello?"

Finn had also been turned down by Kurt, when he tried to get him to take the call. "Just tell him not now," was about all he'd been able to get out of him.

"Dude, I don't know. Sorry." He looked at the phone in confusion. "What's up, man?"

Blaine told him a very edited version of the Karofsky thing; mainly that he'd confronted him (deciding not to go there about the song part of it), with a few guys from his old school with him for support. He hadn't laid a hand on him, but had gotten the message across to leave Kurt alone. That all sounded reasonable to Finn. "I don't know why he's pissed, dude, sorry. Actually, he didn't really look pissed, so maybe it's not so bad."

"But what can I do to get him to _talk_ to me? How do I apologise?"

Finn smiled a huge smile at this. Excellent! He could kill two birds with one stone here, maybe: Rachel had been after him to get Blaine into the Glee club, and he'd seen plenty of cases of people singing their hearts out in Glee to know that that's what Rachel would suggest Blaine do. "I think I have a way."

**A/N: Thanks again, to those reviewing and encouraging me; your feedback really helps, probably more often than you'd guess. More soon...**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Still don't own Glee. Or Caravan of Thieves. More on that later!**

"Wow! Thanks, Finn, Puck, and you, especially, Rachel; I think that's going to sound great!"

Rachel giggled happily, for once happy to sing backup. It had indeed sounded great. She felt confident in this plan. "Of course it's going to sound great! See you guys later!"

Blaine wolfed down his sandwich, and gathered his things, scrambling to get to class on time at the other end of the building. He felt like he really could grow to love New Directions – these kids didn't even know him, really, but had given up their lunch to work on his song for Kurt. Better still, it really did sound pretty good. He felt the most optimistic he'd been in the last two days, and steeled himself for another round of trying to concentrate in his English class. That, he wasn't so optimistic about.

Kurt had been puzzled; the Glee table had been half empty; he'd eaten with Tina, Mike, and Artie, but he wondered where Finn and Rachel were. Puck usually joined them too, nowadays. But he admitted to himself that he hadn't been able to stop scanning the lunch crowd for Blaine. He wanted to talk with him; but he had wanted to do it in person. He'd imagined finding him and taking him off somewhere quiet so they could have had the whole of lunch together, for starters. He thought of texting him, but decided that wasn't how he wanted to find him for this. He felt gloomy, and trudged off to class, absorbed with deciding the best way to try to talk to Blaine again, and sorry that he'd probably been too harsh.

Blaine found to his delight that his afternoon classes had whizzed by, and he did as Rachel had told him to do. So, he found himself at Mr. Shuester's Spanish classroom seconds after the last bell sounded, with an excited Rachel and Finn by his side.

"Mr. Schue?" The tired teacher looked up, and summoned a smile at Rachel's insistent, chirpy tone.

"Yes, Rachel? Hi Finn. What brings you here?"

"Um, we just wanted to talk to you before rehearsal." Finn said, and gestured to the boy beside him. "This is Blaine Anderson, and he wants to join the Glee club."

Mr. Schue's eyebrows shot up as he took in the sight of the black-clad boy in front of him, with gelled hair, motorcycle boots, and chains decorating his tight black pants. He looked kind of tough; he'd seen him around before, in the halls. Well, he mused, Puck had taught him that even kids who looked tough (and this kid looked dressed tougher than Puck did!) sometimes could fit in, after all. He got up, and held out his hand to the boy, and greeted him with a smile, "so, you have much experience singing?"

Mercedes smiled at the text message, then crossed the room of the last class of the day to grab Kurt's arm. "C'mon, white boy, no skipping out on Glee today, okay?"

Kurt sighed dramatically. "'Cedes, I did not skip out on Glee yesterday, okay! I went with my dad to his cardiology checkup."

"Oh. Everything okay, boo?" she asked, with concern causing her brows to come together.

Kurt smiled at his friend. "Better than okay, Mercedes! He's doing great!" And he gave her a huge smile and a happy hug.

"All right then, white boy, so, you gonna walk me to Glee or not?" She teased him.

Kurt and Mercedes entered together, and Kurt saw Finn on drums, Puck tuning up his guitar, and then Blaine turned around and smiled right at him. Mercedes giggled at his obvious stupefaction, and dragged him over to a chair, in between herself and Tina in the front row. Tina smiled a knowing smile at him as Mr. Schue cleared his throat and stood up to address the group.

"Okay, everyone! Today, I'd like to present Blaine Anderson, who has asked to join the Glee club. He has a song planned, and Finn, Puck, and Rachel will be performing with him." He smiled encouragingly at Blaine, who now had his bass guitar strapped on, and he stood with Puck and Rachel, counted off, and they started the haunting-sounding instrumentals. Blaine started, singing by himself at first

I am merely flesh and bone

Driven by a mind that's stone

The very thing that governs me

Will lead me to my doom

Kurt was amazed; Blaine's voice sounded so sexy, the melody like a gypsy song, somewhat minor key sounding. His gaze was fixed right on Kurt's. But he didn't sound sad; he sounded flirtacious, as he continued to sing, now with Rachel, Puck, and Finn starting to softly create the background harmonies.

You're another taboo fruit

To resist my ill repute

Since apples in season I'm gonna get a taste of you!

I can't behave when I'm with you!

Blaine unmistakenly kept singing right at him, as if there were no one else in the room. Kurt wondered if his jaw had just dropped now, or had it been hanging open like a damned fish the entire time?

Here comes the devil, I can't be held responsible

I can't behave, when you are near!

They kept singing, backup singers now coming to the foreground, Rachel loudly singing counterpart to Blaine's sexy lead vocals. Oh. My. Gaga. Why was I mad at him again? Kurt was sure he couldn't think straight. Then he tuned in again to the vocals, and smiled broadly back at Blaine's flirty badboy lyrics.

Go ahead and reprimand

Go ahead and smack my hand

It's like telling a mosquito not to eat you!

I can't behave when I'm with you...

Before he knew it, Blaine, Rachel, Finn, and Puck were bowing, to the riotous applause and yells of delight from the Glee club. Santana purred at Kurt, with a raise of her chin, "wanky!" And Mr. Schue clapped him on the back, and grinned. "Well, New Directions, meet your newest member!"

Mr. Schue was interrupted by Kurt, who had appeared at his side, and asked, "is it all right if I talk to Blaine out in the hall for a minute, Mr. Schue?"

The teacher just nodded and laughed, and the group turned their attention to Rachel and Finn, who were standing in front with their hands linked. "I think we have some new song selections we can consider now for Sectionals!" she excitedly squealed to the group.

**A/N: Do check out the song Blaine sang, I Can't Behave, by Caravan of Thieves; it's easy to find on Youtube. I've had the good fortune to see them perform, and I can definitely see Darren singing this song. As badboy Blaine I think it's perfect for his first serenade for Kurt, and also opens the way for him to apologize and straighten things out with Kurt. What do you think, readers? More tomorrow!**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Still don't own glee (if I did, do you really think the unthinkable – a klaine breakup in season 4! would be happening?!). Or any songs, products, etc. you see here. Trying really hard not to be mad at RIB. I'll let you know if I manage it ;-)**

**Meanwhile, deprived and sad gleeks, weep no more. Oh, and enjoy this chapter.**

_From last time..._

_Mr. Schue was interrupted by Kurt, who had appeared at his side, and asked, "is it all right if I talk to Blaine out in the hall for a minute, Mr. Schue?"_

_The teacher just nodded and laughed, and the group turned their attention to Rachel and Finn, who were standing in front with their hands linked. "I think we have some new song selections we can consider now for Sectionals!" she excitedly squealed to the group._

Blaine had just put his bass down, when he felt himself being pulled out into the hallway by Kurt. Once there, before he even had a chance to look at Kurt's expression, Blaine found himself pinned to the wall, as Kurt cradled the back of his head in one hand while the other pushed him hard against the wall with more strength than he would have expected, and Kurt's mouth was all over his, covering him with kisses that quickly turned passionate. Blaine got over his shock and returned the kisses with equal passion, groaning softly as Kurt pressed his body tight against him, their legs tangling together. He couldn't think; he wasn't sure he could even breathe (or cared if he did or didn't); he never wanted this to end.

Kurt eventually pulled away, and Blaine looked up into his eyes, all dark irises with a penumbra of bright blue. He actually felt a little dizzy, and leaned his weight against the wall again.

"Kurt, I -"

"Oh, Blaine -"

They giggled a little, at how they both had started to talk. Blaine leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on Kurt's lips, and murmured, "you first."

Kurt's eyes changed, looking like they were suddenly ready to spill tears, sparkling. "Blaine, I am so, so sorry." He reached out and held both of Blaine's hands. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I just was so … ugh!" He seemed to momentarily not know what to say first, and he really felt like he wished he could just say it all at once. He hated feeling this disorganized in his brain. He was interrupted from this, as Blaine took his opportunity to speak.

"I get it now, I think. You were mad at me because you thought I'd been … a bully." He'd whispered the last phrase, and Blaine's face looked red now, as he shifted his gaze from Kurt to study his feet. "Maybe that wasn't the best way -"

"No, Blaine, I didn't think that, exactly. It's just that maybe you didn't think it through; how would you have felt if that had driven him over the edge? _That_ was my first thought, that he is emotionally frail, and an attack doesn't have to be physical to cause damage. So that was why I didn't want to talk to you right away..I didn't think I'd be able to do it rationally." He noticed that his boyfriend looked like he wanted to interrupt him, so he put a gentle finger to his lips and silenced him. "I'm so, so sorry, Blaine, because right from the start there was more to this story, and I didn't even give you a chance to tell it. I feel like an awful person."

Blaine's eyes were now bright with tears, and as he spoke the first one leaked out. "I was just so frustrated, Kurt! I wanted to tell you more, I wanted to apologize for doing something you thought was wrong, I wanted you to see me differently! I wanted you to know that I had tried to do it right, that I'd tried talking to Karofsky one on one that morning, but he wouldn't listen! I swear, I wanted to beat the crap out of him, but I didn't lay a hand on him! And then, well, one of the Warblers kind of came up with the song, and well, it sounded like a great idea at the time, especially since he volunteered to try to mentor Karofsky."

Now Kurt looked confused. "What was that last bit?"

"Sebastian, the guy who came up with the song, stayed behind after all the rest of us left, so he could talk to Karofsky about his issues. He even took him out for coffee! Wes told me they talked for like two hours! He's gay, and he thought Karofsky needed someone to talk to on a regular basis; someone that's _not_ you or me."

Kurt shook his head, and looked so full of regret. "So, _this_ was part of your plan? And you didn't get to tell me, because I wasn't ready to listen. I am such an idiot."

"No, no, don't ever think that! I don't think that at all – what I see is a guy who didn't want _anyone_ treated unfairly – even the bully that tormented him. I see what an amazing _heart_ you have, Kurt." He bent down and kissed their joined hands. "And your dad is amazing too – he gave me advice that really helped. He asked me what exactly you'd said to me, and I told him. He told me it was your way of asking for time, but also that if you never wanted to talk to me again you would have made that clear, no mistake." Blaine now smiled a genuine smile at Kurt as he continued. "Finn even helped. He was the one who suggested I surprise you here, in Glee club, and sing an apology to you. Though I think maybe Rachel was somehow behind that."

Kurt wrapped Blaine in a tight hug, and spoke softly to his ear, "I can't believe you; I have the sweetest boyfriend ever. I was an idiot; I put you through hell, and you decide to sing to me. I can't believe it."

Blaine kissed Kurt once more, and looked at him with love-struck, puppy-dog eyes. "Will you promise me something?"

Kurt swallowed. He was pretty sure that right now he'd never deny Blaine what he wanted. "Yes. What is it?"

"No matter how mad you get at me, will you always check your messages?"

Kurt's eyes melted. "Are you sure that's all you want me to promise?"

"No. Would it be too much for me to ask you to always talk to me, even if you're mad at me?"

Kurt exhaled. It wasn't his usual way of relating, for sure, as his dad had correctly figured out. It worked for them, but Blaine wasn't his dad; it wasn't in his nature to be able to wait Kurt out, until he was composed and ready to be rational. "I've always been afraid of talking to people I care about if I'm mad at them; I can be awful, and I don't want to say horrible things that I can't take back." His voice was quiet, his eyes begging for understanding.

"Maybe I'm not the only one who needs to learn to behave," Blaine purred, in a sexy voice.

"Maybe. I'll promise to always text you back; I think I can control myself better that way than in talking, if I need to calm down."

"Okay. I'll go with that for now. Though, to be honest, I think when it was at its worst, I would have gladly taken Angry Kurt instead of no Kurt at all."

"Oh, you're brave, Anderson. No question of that." He reached over to move his hands to Blaine's shoulders. "How about we go back in there, before Rachel catches us."

"Ooh, look who's all Mr. No-PDAs-At-School all of a sudden!" Blaine teased.

"Sue me.I was taken in by your badboy charm. It'll never happen again." Blaine shot a wounded-puppy look at him. "Okay, I take that back. Maybe after Glee club you can tell me all about this Warbler attack thing you did." Blaine sighed happily at Kurt's playful tone, he felt so relieved, and just grateful to the world in general.

Rachel poked her head out the door and spotted them. "You two – get back in here! We've got lots to do, we want to check Blaine's voice on some harmonies, and ..."

Kurt rolled his eyes and smiled at her, stopping her mid-speech. "Rachel, don't worry; we're all yours."

After practice, Sam stuck around, fiddling with his bag, changing his shoes. Puck noticed his uneasy expression and approached his friend. "Hey, dude! What's up?"

Sam frowned, debating what to say. "Aw, nothing. Just a lot on my mind. You know how it is."

Puck smirked at him. He was better at analyzing language than most people gave him credit for. "Listen to yourself. You just used a whole lot of words to say nothing at all."

Sam glowered, "Fine. Don't you think it's a little odd, that Blaine is in Glee now? I mean, is he even _safe_?"

Puck knew where this was coming from. He knew all about image, and being tough, but he figured he knew some things here that Sam didn't know; that probably none of the Glee kids knew except probably Kurt. "You mean, you think he looks like a juvie reject?"

"Exactly!" Sam gained confidence, and added, "it's not like he hasn't been in any fights here, he definitely has! And what about that whole knife thing – that's freaky!"

Puck shook his head, and chuckled to himself. "You know, I did it too. I assumed he was fresh out of juvie, gave him plenty of space; I'll admit I thought he was fucking scary! Then he started doing his boxing workouts, and took on Karofsky when he was harassing Kurt – I mean, the guy probably outweighs him by a hundred pounds! So, you wanna know what I did?"

Sam just nodded, so Puck went on. "I asked around. Don't look so shocked, trouty mouth! I know people from when I was there; some of 'em still stuck there, some out. And guess what? Not one of them had _ever_ heard of him. Then they asked around, and they got nothing." Puck smiled at Sam. "So that either meant he was from out of state, like New York or Jersey or something, or he'd never been in trouble with the law. Well, Ms. Rachel Berry, in her usual insanity, was cyber-stalking the competition, Dalton Academy, and came upon footage from last year, and their lead singer then was great. He was Blaine Anderson."

"What?" Sam could hardly believe it.

"Exactly. So, I figured it out. His clothes, they're like my Mohawk; they say 'don't mess with me'. I don't think he's any more harmful to the Glee club than I am, Sam."

"Damn. I guess you're right..."

"Of course I'm right. Pay attention! Ever seen him beat anyone up? Locker slam anyone? And I am _not_ including when he's tried to defend Kurt or himself. See any body piercings? Tatts? Smoking? Drugs? No? I think he's totally clean, bro. Not only that, but it looks like Kurt's gonna finally get him some," he smirked as he put away his guitar.

Sam wasn't sure how he felt about that. He'd gotten used to Kurt being gay, sort of. But his church didn't preach tolerance of homosexual activity. So, he'd been okay with Kurt as a person, but not an active gay person. He shook his head. That didn't seem right either. Insisting that Kurt be alone forever (since he clearly didn't want to date girls) seemed kind of harsh. He figured he needed to think some more about this. "Well, if you're pretty convinced he's safe, he probably is. Don't mind me if I keep an eye on him for a while, though."

"Whatever, dude. See you at the game tonight."

**A/N: Happy, klainers? I sure hope so. I couldn't keep them apart any longer, but this felt like the right time. Reactions? Love to hear 'em!**

**Thanks to Blurt-it-all-out, for starters. She suggested, rightly I think, that not everyone would welcome Blaine into Glee club automatically. Hence the tail end of this chapter. We also do get some extra information there: that Puck did in fact check him out, and had worked out a lot of the truth on his own. And that of all the Gleeks, he'd understand Blaine's 'costume' the most. Thanks as well to Selibow, loquaciouslauryn, msdarque, DancingintheRayne, and I'mJustDefyingGravityx3. All of you have been fun to talk to in PM, and I love seeing your comments and feedback. All of you, and this includes all you readers, encourage me to dream and write more. You know I'd love to hear from you, and if you suggest something, I just may use it! :-)**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Thank you, dear readers and reviewers, as always for inspiring me! I don't own Glee or any songs, products, etc. that appear here.**

"C'mon, Kurt, you ready to go?" Burt bellowed up the stairs. He was mildly surprised he'd been able to convince him to come to the McKinley football game tonight, but Kurt had buckled when Burt pointed out that Friday night was family night, and this is what they were doing tonight.

Before he'd left, Finn had reminded Kurt that Blaine was playing, as kicker. Burt didn't know this, but Kurt decided to let him think he'd talked him into going on his own. He finished his hair with a flourish, having applied a last spritz of hairspray, and joined his dad and Carole as they headed towards her car.

"Dad, what's going on down there?" Kurt frowned at the field, not knowing what the evident penalty was. He hated feeling confused. He also felt disappointed that number 18 was hardly ever in view, as Blaine was the kicker, and McKinley wasn't doing too well.

"Unnecessary roughness, kid," and Burt rattled on about the action that had just taken place, that Kurt had missed. Apparently he'd been looking at the wrong part of the field.

"That guy looks _hurt_, dad," Kurt stared as the McKinley player was helped off the field, back towards the first aid area. "Even I know that can't be good."

"Nope, kiddo, not good. Finn needs someone to throw to, and losing a wide receiver like that is bad news."

Kurt watched as Coach Beiste talked to the team as the refs sorted out the penalty to be meted out. A loud "15 yard penalty against defense, McKinley will now be at the 60 yard mark, first down." The home team crowd cheered its approval, and Kurt watched as the team got in formation around Finn. "Dad! What is Blaine doing out there? I thought he was just the kicker!" He was easy to find; his shorter stature stuck out in this setting.

Burt smiled and nodded his head. "He is, Kurt, but it looks like Coach is trying him out as a replacement for that kid that just got hurt."

"But he'll get killed!" Kurt's voice managed to be both shrill and quiet as he hissed to his dad. Burt laughed, it was clear that Kurt didn't approve of this.

"Coach wouldn't put him out there if she didn't think he could manage, Kurt. The other team knows he's the kicker, so they won't expect much, and may not bother guarding him much. They'll probably figure the bench isn't deep enough (and they'd be right) and that Coach put him out as a warm body, nothing more." He didn't add that the guys who'd taken out the other receiver minutes ago looked like brutes who might enjoy any excuse to crush the kicker.

The crowd watched as Finn got the ball, stepped back to find an opening to pass to, and was sacked. He picked himself up pretty quickly, and they got ready for the second down. Finn tried passing to Puck this time, but the pass was incomplete. Finn gathered the team in the huddle, and told the team the plan. They nodded and got in formation. As soon as he could, Blaine sprinted out, hoping to get yardage and not draw too much attention at the same time. Finn fired a pass right at him; he caught it, ran towards the endzone, and was tackled at the 20 yard line.

Kurt shrieked as Blaine disappeared under a mass of gigantic green-clad uniforms. As a whistle blew, they dispersed, and Puck helped Blaine up. Kurt was close enough to hear Blaine yell, "I'm fine!" but saw him shake his head seconds later, as if clearing water out of his ears after a dive. "Dad! He shouldn't be out there! He had a concussion not that long ago!"

"Honey, he's right." Carole was already heading off to have a word with the Coach, as the team set up for the next play.

"Kurt, Carole's on it; she's a nurse, and I think Coach will listen to her, or at least let someone examine him."

A tall man in a stylish grey stadium jacket appeared beside Coach Beiste. "Hello, I'm Michael Anderson."

_later..._

"Good game, guys, not too shabby!" Coach greeted the team in the locker room; they were full of happy high fives, towel snaps, and the plans for what they wanted to do with the rest of their night.

"Blaine, can I talk to you?"

"Sure thing, Coach." He looked happy, flushed, like the rest of the boys.

"I'm sorry I put you out there; probably should've waited longer, 'cause of your head."

"I know, Coach. I'm okay now, it was just right after, when I felt a little stunned."

He looked like he was telling the truth, and he'd been checked out by the PA in attendance, who'd cleared him for kicking and nothing else for the remainder of the game. "There's something else I wanted to tell you – your father was there, and he got to see you play. He told me he was proud of you. I don't think he stayed for the whole game though, I didn't see him after that."

Blaine felt stunned for the second time that night. He'd avoided seeing his father as much as possible. It was easy to do; he'd never been very present as a parent, for years now; and this had gotten much more noticeable after he'd come out. Then things got much worse when his mother found out that he'd cheated on her, a long term thing, and they separated. No amount of counseling could make him _not_ take sides; he felt that her heart had been broken, and that his father was more upset that it had all been discovered than anything else. They were in the process of divorcing; his mother had chosen to move to Lima, where her sister and her family lived, which was two hours from Westerville. Since the divorce wasn't final, there had been no settlement, so she and her son lived on her accountant's salary. That meant they could live in a modest house, and live reasonably comfortably, but the tuition at Dalton was out of reach for her.

His father had offered to pay his Dalton tuition in full, on the condition that Blaine would come to live at his house. When Blaine heard the condition his father had set, his determination to join his mother and reject the offer was unshakable. There was no way in hell he was going to live with his arrogant, intolerant father. Blaine argued that the offer was his father in classic lawyer mode: make an offer that looks sweet on the outside, but coated in poison so it would never be accepted. Why he'd showed up at this game, he didn't know. Stranger still that he hadn't stayed, but whatever. He smiled, remembering his plan for the night: Kurt was coming to his house to hang out, and keep him up way past his bedtime.

He hurriedly got out of uniform, cleaned up a little (preferring a proper shower at home), and raced out to find Kurt waiting for him.

"Hey, best-kicker-ever!" and Kurt grabbed him in a crushing hug. "You okay?"

"Right now? Better than ever!" he growled back in Kurt's ear.

Laughing, Kurt released him. "We'll see about that." He wanted so badly to kiss him then and there, and witnessed scenes like that all around him. But a hug was going to suffice for now; he was just glad they'd be alone soon.

Blaine wasn't about to let his father's unexpected appearance ruin this night for him. His mom and auntie were going to finish a few dishes for tomorrow as they watched their favorite shows on the kitchen t.v., laughing and chatting so much as they worked that he doubted they heard their shows at all. He was going to help, until they kicked him out of the kitchen (which was usually pretty quick; his mom liked him having Kurt over). He hoped he and Kurt could sneak a piece of cake tonight. They'd made three of them, in preparation for the hungry Warblers tomorrow. Surely they could filch a piece or two tonight?

**A/N: My knowledge of football really is limited, despite having seen lots of games in high school (I played clarinet in marching band, and we made it a practice to ignore the games entirely). I think in general what I wrote here is plausible, at least. Tell me if it's not – if necessary, I could amend the chapter.**

**Welcome, Josie, to reviewing! Glad you're liking the story, and I'm tickled that you made the tea (I coincidentally made some just like it today). Reminder: a recipe will show up in the next A/N.**

**Blurtitallout, you already know that your observations made this story better – again, thanks! Loquaciouslauryn, msdarque, I'mJustDefyingGravityx3, Writing memories, and DancingIntheRayne, so encouraged by you too! **

**More soon, amigos!**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Don't own Glee, or anything else product-y you might see here. Just a few OC s here and there, which I'll share!**

_Last chapter..._

_"Hey, best-kicker-ever!" and Kurt grabbed him in a crushing hug. "You okay?"_

_"Right now? Better than ever!" he growled back in Kurt's ear._

_Laughing, Kurt released him. "We'll see about that." He wanted so badly to kiss him then and there, and witnessed scenes like that all around him. But a hug was going to suffice for now; he was just glad they'd be alone soon._

_Blaine wasn't about to let his father's unexpected appearance ruin this night for him. His mom and auntie were going to finish a few dishes for tomorrow as they watched their favorite shows on the kitchen t.v., laughing and chatting so much as they worked that he doubted they heard their shows at all. He was going to help, until they kicked him out of the kitchen (which was usually pretty quick; his mom liked him having Kurt over). He hoped he and Kurt could sneak a piece of cake tonight. They'd made three of them, in preparation for the hungry Warblers tomorrow. Surely they could filch a piece or two tonight?_

They were still laughing and celebrating on the short drive to Blaine's house, singing loudly to the pop tunes on Blaine's radio, and burst into the house hungry and thirsty. Blaine's Auntie Mimi met them at the door. "Boys! Come on in the kitchen! You must be so hungry!" and she hugged them both, and squealed in delight when Blaine hugged her and swung her around; he gently kissed her on the top of the head before setting her down.

"Auntie, where's mom?"

"Kurt, you just go get something to drink, I'm going to talk to Blaine for a minute, okay?" and she pulled Blaine aside into the living room, her face suddenly serious.

"Honey, she's up in her room. I'm sure she'll be down soon. You know she had a meeting with the lawyers and all today?"

Blaine nodded; he did know, but he'd been so caught up in practice and then tonight's game that he hadn't been home since breakfast. "Is she okay? Maybe I should go see her."

She seemed to consider his words, and then said, "go ahead. She might be a little emotional right now, your father was here about an hour ago."

Blaine nodded. So that was where he went after his appearance at the game. Leaping up the stairs two at a time, he reached his mother's room, and softly knocked on the door. He waited a moment, before hearing a soft, "come in."

Blaine was at her side in a heartbeat, as she sat on her bed, looking drained, tired. "Honey, I'm so glad you're home! How was your game? I'm so sad I didn't get to see this one."

Blaine hugged her and smiled a gentle smile. "No problem, mom. Are you all right?"

Christine Anderson sighed. She was going to keep the promise she'd made to herself, despite the hurt and anger that kept cropping up – she would not defame her soon to be ex-husband to their children. It was hard, but so far she'd kept to it. In Michael Anderson's case, it meant she really couldn't talk to Blaine about his father beyond arrangements and unavoidable updates. But she would not, she resolved, destroy her son's relationship with his father. Looking at her feet, she sighed again, sad that he'd done that himself, pretty much. Her husband's attitude towards Blaine's coming out hadn't improved greatly over time; only a gloss of surface manners covered what were still homophobic attitudes. However, today's events had gone better than she expected. She was glad to have good news to give her son.

"Blaine, after your father saw you at the football game, he came back here. He's decided to go with arbitration – that's good news, sweetie; it means I won't have to play dueling lawyers." She smiled a genuine smile at her son. "He was proud of you, you know. I wish I could have been there, but we'd missed the beginning because of the meeting going late, and your Auntie Mimi and I wanted to relax and cook for your friends tomorrow anyway."

Only my mom, Blaine mused. Chopping and prepping lots of time-intensive Filippino dishes with her sister was relaxing to her (though it looked like work to him). He knew that after the stress of the meeting she'd decompress better that way than going to watch a game. "Mom, it's fine! There'll be more games -"

"Thank you, sweetie. It was after he saw you, he came here and told me he decided to go with arbitration all of a sudden." She teared up, but continued through her tears. "He said it looked like I was doing a great job with you, that you looked happy here, and he wanted everything to be fair for us both."

He folded her into his arms, starting to tear up a little himself. "That's good, right? And mom, you know you're the best. Anyone can see that."

She chuckled. "Exactly. How about we go downstairs, huh? I think I heard that gorgeous boyfriend of yours talking to Mimi."

"Do you think we could have a little of one of the cakes?" Blaine teased his mom, with puppy dog eyes and hands clasped as if in prayer.

"I think we all need some cake. Maybe we'll just have to make another for tomorrow."

Blaine was happy to see his mom's mood lighten. As they stepped into the kitchen, his aunt called to him, "Blaine! I've got some coffee on. How about some cake?"

"Kurt, you are gonna love this!" Blaine enthused, reaching for plates while his mom got forks out and his aunt triumphantly produced the cake from the fridge. "This is my favorite cake ever!"

"Sounds great!" Kurt smiled, as Mimi lifted the cover of a light brown frosted cake with swirls of dark chocolate on top. Blaine's aunt cut generous slices for the four of them, while Blaine got the coffees.

"Oh my gaga, this is … amazing!" Kurt practically moaned in pleasure, savoring the first forkful. The cake looked like it had nine layers or something! It was simple, but tasted so rich and delicious, not overly sweet. Whereas before he thought maybe the piece he'd been given was bigger than he really wanted, before he'd finished his first forkful he wondered if maybe he couldn't have seconds.

"I know, right!" Blaine gushed, between bites. "Mom always makes this for my birthday, and sometimes for special occasions. Remember, I told you about that feast tomorrow?"

"You're sure it won't be weird? I mean, I don't really know the Warblers."

"Well," Blaine laughed, "with these guys you can kind of count on weird, but it'll be fine! And you don't want to miss my mom and auntie's feast!"

"No, I don't! Will I get some more of this cake then?" Kurt asked shyly.

"Yes, but maybe we should make another tonight, to replace this one," his mom said, laughing a little.

The next day, Kurt arrived mid afternoon, a little before the Warblers were expected, so he could help Blaine and his mom set up. He had to smile, they were both bouncy and excited, reminiscing about when they'd had the Dalton boys over before, up at their old house. Kurt was amazed at the sheer quantity of food on hand, as if they were going to feed a dozen Finns.

"I am so glad you talked me into coming," he said appreciatively. "This all looks and smells so good!"

"I love having you here, sweetie," Christine said sweetly. "Blaine is never happier than when you're here."

Kurt just beamed at her. He could tell where Blaine got his sweetness from.

"Blaine! Is the grill ready?" She called out to her son, out on the patio.

"All set, mom." Blaine's phone buzzed, and he picked it up. He wondered if the guys were having trouble finding his new home. He didn't recognize the caller, but answered it anyway. "Hello?"

"Blaine. It's Sebastian. I'm here."

"Great! Come on in, then." Blaine enthused. He didn't know him well, but he'd definitely been great in the whole Karofsky thing, from what Wes had told him, and he'd enjoyed singing with him.

"No. Can you come out here, please." Sebastian was on his best behavior, which Blaine probably didn't know, though the rest of the Warblers would have been surprised by his polite demeanor.

"Is everything okay?" Blaine said quietly. He couldn't think what the problem could be, and looked outside to see a red sports car in front of his house.

Sebastian exhaled. "Yes. I just have someone who wants to apologize to Kurt. He's there, I assume?"

"Yes... what's this all about?" Blaine hissed into the phone. He didn't like surprises, and guessed he really wouldn't like this one if his suspicions were right.

"Dave. He wants to apologize."

"You're bringing him to my _house_, to a party!"

Sebastian closed his eyes, and pinched the top of his nose, unhappy that his worst case scenario was sounding close to what was going down. "No. You will notice that I called you, and asked you to come out here? I wasn't planning on springing him on you in your own house. Now, will you both get out here?"

Kurt was now at Blaine's side, worried about the distress evident in Blaine's expression. He mouthed a silent 'what's the matter', and Blaine said into his cell phone. "Stay put. But give me a few minutes," and ended the call.

Blaine was unsure what he wanted to have happen. What he really wanted was for Sebastian to just go away; he didn't want to deal with him or his rudely springing Karofsky on him like this. Things were patched up with Kurt, but was he ready to face his tormentor? Should he even have to? He wondered; it really hadn't been much time yet, what was going on here?

Kurt sensed that Blaine was somehow frozen, and guided him to the couch to sit. "Tell me, Blaine. Is everything okay?"

"I don't know. I can't believe he's doing this!" Kurt noticed the angry tone right away.

"Doing what? I'm in the dark here."

Blaine looked at Kurt with pain in his eyes. "Remember how I told you that one of the Warblers decided to try to kind of counsel Karofsky?" Kurt nodded, but didn't interrupt. "Well, he's out there now; both of them are. He said he wants to talk to you. To both of us."

Blaine watched Kurt's face drain of color, but his expression was blank. He hastily added, "Kurt, we don't have to do this. I don't care what his deal is, I can just tell him to get the hell out of here! What is he doing, springing this on us?"

Kurt stood up, and reached for both of Blaine's hands. "Let's do it."

"What? No, he's done -"

Kurt cut him off. "I'm not afraid to do this. C'mon." And he walked to the front door, a worried Blaine trailing him.

Seeing the front door open, Sebastian got out of his car first. He noticed the pale boy striding towards him, who could only be Kurt; he'd heard all about him, both from Karofsky and Wes. Right beside him was a very pissed off looking Blaine. He smiled at them both, and subconsciously opened his hands and arms in a gesture of capitulation. "You must be Kurt. Thanks for agreeing to come out here."

"Sebastian, what is going on?" Blaine demanded again.

"An apology. Just like I said." Sensing that waiting wouldn't help the situation, without turning away from the boys in front of him Sebastian slapped the hood of the car, motioning for Dave to get out. Kurt and Blaine watched as the passenger door opened, and a contrite looking Karofsky emerged.

**A/N: Cake, you say? Glad you asked. Here's the recipe, which is my husband's favorite, which I always make for his birthday, and for random special occasions as well. This is from his mom. It's deceptively easy: it looks like a layer cake of very thin layers, which it is. But it's not baked.**

**Here goes: you'll need a box of graham crackers (good quality), a pint of whipping cream, and chocolate syrup (dark chocolate is nice for this, but regular milk chocolate works too). Whip the cream (you can do it by hand with a whisk, or use a mixer, your choice) until soft peaks form: like very soft frosting, then add chocolate syrup to taste; it should be a light brown (you don't want to overdo the syrup). On a rectangular platter, arrange 3 grahams side by side, then apply a fairly thick layer of the cream to coat them. Then apply another layer of grahams, alternating the arrangements of crackers as you go (helps structural integrity). Stop when it looks like you'll run out of cream, because you need to save enough to frost the sides, which is the almost last step. You won't use a whole box of grahams. You may decorate the top with swirls of chocolate sauce, or crumbled candies or oreos, or whatever. Cover and refrigerate at least 8 hours. Cut and enjoy! I hope you try it sometime, it's so easy to do, and tastes yummy.**

**Thanks, as always, to my reviewers, who encourage me so much: msdarque, loquaciouslauryn, DancingintheRayne, Blurtitallout, Writing memories, and I'mJustDefyingGravityX3. I hope to update soon, sorry about the cliffhanger ;-)**

**Please comment/review, you know I love to hear from you. There are good reasons why Sebastian is on his best behavior, don't worry, he's still himself. **


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Don't own Glee, or other producty stuff. Getting right to it...**

_from last chapter..._

_Seeing the front door open, Sebastian got out of his car first. He noticed the pale boy striding towards him, who could only be Kurt; he'd heard all about him, both from Karofsky and Wes. Right beside him was a very pissed off looking Blaine. He smiled at them both, and subconsciously opened his hands and arms in a gesture of capitulation. "You must be Kurt. Thanks for agreeing to come out here."_

_"Sebastian, what is going on?" Blaine demanded again._

"An apology. Just like I said." Sensing that waiting wouldn't help the situation, without turning away from the boys in front of him Sebastian slapped the hood of the car, motioning for Dave to get out. Kurt and Blaine watched as the passenger door opened, and a contrite looking Karofsky emerged.

Kurt stood to his full height, stony faced as he felt Blaine's body beside him, pressed up against his side all the way down his leg. Too concentrated on the boys in front of him to look, he did not see the intense, just-contained anger on Blaine's face.

Sebastian did, however, and motioned to Dave to stand beside him, with his back to the car. Taking control of the situation, he spoke first. "Blaine, first of all, thank you for arranging for me to talk to Dave after," and his composure slipped here, "you know." He, along with the other Warblers, had all kind of agreed in retrospect that the Warbler attack had been an idea that sounded kind of cool before they did it, but was probably way too harsh to do to a confused, closeted kid; they'd all felt bad about it after. He swallowed, and went on. "We've talked a couple of times, and I know it seems too soon," and here he smiled broadly, with a hint of a smirk, "but, you know, too soon can kind of be the best kind."

Kurt nodded. This guy was smooth; thanking Blaine for setting up some kind of mentoring thing for Karofsky. Taking on the least controversial aspect of this whole awkward meeting. He had to appreciate that kind of negotiating skill. Kurt waited for Blaine to answer, since this comment had been directed at him.

Blaine hesitated; not expecting to hear what he had just heard. It had taken Kurt's angry reaction for him to realize that the Warbler intervention could have been disastrous for its object; he'd been satisfied in the moment, knowing that this particular threat was probably neutralized. And here Sebastian was, politely thanking him for gifting him with the burden of being Karofsky's counselor of sorts. He decided to go with Sebastian's polite tone, and, without looking at Kurt, stiffly answered, "Sebastian, this is Kurt; I don't think you've met. Kurt, Sebastian."

Sebastian was surprised immediately by Kurt's placid smile, and he looked at the fashionably dressed boy in front of him. He was indeed beautiful, just as Dave had said. Then he spoke. "It's nice to meet you, Sebastian. Dave, well, I guess it'll be nice to hear you out." His voice! He instantly just wanted to hear more. It was a voice like no other he'd ever heard. He could see now why this beautiful, fashionably dressed boy (who apparently always wore tight pants, like the ones he had on now), with his perfect hair and mesmerizing voice, who also evidently had a lot more poise than Blaine did, had driven the very closeted Dave to distraction. Not exactly his type; but he could definitely see the draw. It was clear that the ethereal creature in front of him may as well have been from Mars, as far as the sticks of Ohio could appreciate. Not so surprising that he'd been subjected to more than his share of bullying.

Sebastian looked to his sort-of protege. He waited for him to speak; he didn't want to rush him, knowing that Dave was at his best not that articulate. "Kurt, I … I have so much to apologize for." The boy's eyes didn't meet anyone's, he seemed to be studying the pavement in front of him. "I just want you to know I really am sorry. For all of it. I won't ever bully you again, I swear." Dave lifted his gaze to look at Blaine, who he'd feared the most. "Sebastian told me you weren't going to out me." He swallowed before going on. "It looks like he was right." His voice faltered, dropping to a whisper, "thank you so much for that." And all three boys watched as his eyes filled with tears.

Kurt spoke first. "Thank you." He smiled a genuine, gentle smile directed at him. "I'm glad to hear it. And no, we would never have outed you." He looked to Blaine now, waiting for him to speak too.

"No, it was never the plan to out you. You will leave Kurt alone, right?" Blaine seemed less tense as he listened to Dave's apology, but he still looked far from relaxed. Dave only nodded, and no one spoke for what seemed like a long time.

Sebastian straightened up and addressed Kurt and Blaine. "I don't want to keep you from your party preparations, Blaine. Thank you for talking to us. Kurt, it was nice to meet you.." His tone was formal. His glanced shifted to Dave, then back to the boys in front of him. "We're just going to go now. Thanks again." He laid a hand on Dave's shoulder, gently pushing him towards the passenger side of his car.

Dave looked back before getting in. "Thank you. I know … I know that this doesn't cover it. I … I just want you to know, I want to … be a better person." And he ducked into the car. Kurt and Blaine watched as he crumpled in on himself, hands covering his face as he sat down.

Blaine tore his gaze away from Dave, and looked up to see Sebastian studying his face intently. "I didn't expect this at all, Sebastian. I have to say, I don't know how Karofsky got from where he was to this, except for you." He shook his head, still stunned by seeing this side of the boy he'd thought of only as Kurt's bully. "Thank you."

Kurt added, "I have no idea how you got there, with him." He favored Sebastian with a genuine smile that lit up his eyes. "You give me hope."

Sebastian had heard enough; he didn't want to feel embarrassed, and they would have been surprised to know that he didn't feel as though he deserved their praise. For a moment, his memory visited the painful place he didn't often go to, before he forced it away. Donning again his smirking, snarky demeanor he said with a lift of one eyebrow, "Well, Bear Cub here's got a long way to go. I haven't exactly gotten him to come out and play." He exhibited a broad smile. " But I will! Some day." Shooting a quick glance into his car, he reached for the door handle and waved goodbye. "Bye, Blaine, Kurt. Later!"

Kurt noticed that before they took off, Sebastian's hand had crossed over to Dave's side, where it gave a squeezed the knee beside him, before returning to the steering wheel. Kurt and Blaine stood for a moment, just blinking at each other, before Blaine whispered, "inside?"

"Hell, yes." Kurt whispered back, consumed with a desire to hold the boy in front of him, and talk through what had just happened. Just not here.

They retreated into the house, just as the first car of hungry Warblers made its way onto the side street Blaine lived on.

"Wasn't that Sebastian we passed just there?" Nick frowned, asking Jeff, beside him in the front seat.

Jeff craned his body around to look at the retreating car. "Think so? Suppose he's lost?"

**A/N: Short chapter, I know. I started this the other day, and had just minutes to grasp here, have to get ready to go to work. But I wanted to share this with you, and I'd love to hear from you if you've got any feedback. I write oddly, I think; sometimes my writing time is mostly in my head, and then I finally get it down to be able to share it. This one has lots behind it; some of which we'll see, some of it could be its own story. I thank you all for reading, and reviewers, you know I love you. Work, all too soon, beckons, but I hope you've enjoyed this chapter.**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Don't own Glee, or well, stuff. Like, stuff you might see mentioned here with a brand name. Just borrowin', folks!**

_From last time..._

_Blaine whispered, "inside?"_

"_Hell, yes." Kurt whispered back, consumed with a desire to hold the boy in front of him, and talk through what had just happened. Just not here._

_They retreated into the house, just as the first car of hungry Warblers made its way onto the side street Blaine lived on._

"_Wasn't that Sebastian we passed just there?" Nick frowned, asking Jeff, beside him in the front seat._

_Jeff craned his body around to look at the retreating car. "Think so? Suppose he's lost?"_

"C'mon, Bear Cub, that didn't go so bad," Sebastian crooned at Dave's shell-shocked form beside him. I really am the master of _too soon_, he smirked to himself. Then again, why not? He knew Dave meant it, so now it was done.

Dave didn't know what to say, and didn't trust his voice yet. Part of him knew Sebastian was right; if he was sincere in his desire to stop terrorizing and basically just creeping Kurt out (and risking the damn hobbit's anger!) this was a step towards committing to that. He was still so relieved that they'd meant it when they'd assured him that they wouldn't out him. He didn't know what he would have done if on that awful evening they'd capped off their 'serenade' with doing that. Part of him had a grim answer: he didn't think he could handle it, and maybe he would have done it. He pushed those thoughts away from him, remembering what had happened immediately after.

Sebastian had guided him to the sports car they were now sitting in, and they had gone to the Lima Bean for coffees. He remembered Sebastian bringing him a coke (since he'd managed to blurt out that he didn't drink coffee) and sitting across from him, looking amused. "It's going to be all right, you know; like I said, the Warblers don't count as outing: your secret is safe with us." He'd leaned forward, into the periphery of Dave's personal space. "Though maybe someday you'll reconsider, or at least open the door a crack." And he'd mimed knocking on an imaginary door.

"Wh – why? Why are you talking to me? I thought you guys were going to beat the crap out of me or something!" Dave's words spilled out fast, even as he kept his volume low, worriedly glancing around the almost-empty coffee shop. "Or worse! I mean, I swear, I had no idea what to expect! But not this, not in a million years. You're being … nice, I think." He whispered, "I hope."

"Bear Cub, get this straight. The Warblers aren't _all_ gay, although definitely it increases the chances!" He smirked openly. "I mean, singing, dancing, all with a bunch of guys... no, but really, they're mostly not gay. Or at least not out." He grinned evilly. "And yes, _I_ am gay. Surprise! Your world just got a little bit bigger." He inclined his body in a mocking bow. "You're welcome."

Dave just shook his head. "You said you'd tell me – why the nickname?"

The stylish boy in front of him straightened up, and became momentarily serious. "Because, grasshopper, you've clearly got a lot to learn about gay. Kurt's not the only flavor out there, you know! Don't panic, you don't have to go and buy the Rosetta Stone program to become fluent in Judy Garland, Project Runway, recent Broadway musicals, or Queer Eye. _Relax_! There's more than one way to be gay, just like there's more than one kind of straight guy out there. You just need some education, and you'll do fine. A _bear_ is a gay guy who looks like you, basically: big, muscular, sporty, not usually a fashionista. It's all good!" He smiled encouragingly at Dave. "You even get to still like sports and cars if you want."

Sebastian sighed, looking at Dave's face. It looked like maybe he'd lost him partway there; this was going to take some time. On the other hand, it could even be fun, once Dave got over being terrified. "The thing is, you're going to have to face it that Kurt's off limits. He said no, he's got a boyfriend now, and you guys have serious bad history. But, on the plus side, once you realize there are other guys out there, and that for some of them you're going to be just what they want, it'll get better. Really."

He reached out to him. "Hand me your phone." Startled, Dave complied. "I'm really hoping you're not always this skittish. I'm just putting myself in your directory. I'm going to be expecting to hear from you when you need someone to talk to." He used Dave's phone to call his own. "There. And now I've got your number." And he handed the phone back.

"Why are you being nice to me?" Dave whispered.

Sebastian looked outside before speaking. "Sometimes it's not about you, you know. Let's just say I had a good friend, far away from here. Things didn't go well with him – he was forced out of the closet, awful things happened to him. In the end, I couldn't help him in time to do any good; I still wish it hadn't ended like that." Dave watched as he talked, and was surprised to feel the need to comfort his comforter. "I don't want to get into it right now, but somehow … I think helping you will help me too. Karma, you know?"

They'd talked a long time after that, about everything _but_ what had brought the unlikely pair to the coffee shop in the first place. By the end, Dave was sincere in his promise to keep in touch, and to text him or call when he needed someone to talk to. They'd communicated quite a lot since then, and Bastian had planned this talk with Blaine and Kurt, telling him he was ready. Dave wouldn't have done it, not this soon, but he'd found that he didn't win many arguments with his new friend.

Sebastian looked over to Dave, and beamed at him, seeing as his mood had lifted. "Bear cub, you did good. And you deserve a reward." He grinned and added, "You're gonna go home, eat, change into something decent."

"What?" Dave liked Bastian as a friend, but had no idea where this was going.

"Like I said, a reward. I'm picking you up at 8, we're gonna go dance."

"I don't dance!" Dave sputtered out, panicking.

"And I _don't care_!_ I do! _And you'll love it, I swear." Taking pity on the boy, he added, "and _you_ don't have to dance. It's a place called Scandals, it's a gay bar. Don't worry, lots of closeted guys there, your secret will still be safe. I swear. But you _will_ have fun."

Dave wasn't sure about this. But he couldn't deny Bastian. He'd almost stayed home from school the night after they'd met; he'd hardly slept, and going back even to his solitary in-school suspension seemed like more than he could take. Like he'd read his mind or something, right after his alarm clock had gone off, his cell phone had chimed, displaying a text from Sebastian: **Courage. Text me ****whenever you want today, I'm here. **He'd taken him up on it, and it had indeed gotten him through the day, lots of short little messages, and the more he got to know him the more he knew when he was joking (which was most of the time). That, and the fact that his assurances were all true so far; no one outed him, Blaine and Kurt didn't talk to him when he'd gone to the caf to get his lunch (that he still had to eat at the library). He hadn't wanted to talk to Kurt yet, but it had gone okay. "Ah, I'll go, Bas. But I don't have ID for that."

"Got it covered, and I know the door guy. No worries."

Blaine and Kurt headed back to the house as Sebastian's car left. They were barely in when Kurt pinned him to the door playfully and kissed him soundly. Stepping back a bit, Kurt said breathily, "you are _so_ amazing. I … I just am so proud of you! I could tell you had to hold yourself back at first. I am so proud of my hot boyfriend!"

Blaine held him in a tight hug, then released him enough to gently kiss his lips before answering, "Kurt, you're everything to me! I just want you safe, I'd do anything -"

"I know. You're amazing." Kurt smiled at him. "I have no idea how I ever got to be so lucky."

They were interrupted by a honk, followed by the sound of car door and the happy noises of a bunch of Warblers. Blaine opened the door, and was greeted by Nick, Jeff, Andrew, Scott, and Thad. Nick spoke first. "Blaine! We found you! Wow! It smells awesome!"

"Yes, Nick, great to see you too," Blaine smiled at his friends, who were excitedly greeting Kurt and looked eager to eat.

"Boys! I'm so glad you're here!" Blaine's mom promptly disappeared in the crowd of happy young men, and she basked in their enthusiasm and affection. She'd missed this; their old house was close enough to Dalton it had been a favorite weekend haunt, and they all headed towards the back of the house, to the family room which was all ready for them.

Thad turned to her, asking with a serious face, "There is The Cake, right?"

She played with him a bit. "Nope."

"Oh, um, sorry, all right then." That looked a little disappointed, and embarrassed.

She laughed, and added, "well, actually, there are _three_ of them, not just one!"

"I love you!" and she found herself lost in the big boy's hug. The doorbell rang, and Blaine yelled out, "I got it!" Christine smiled, and headed to the kitchen to help Mimi bring more food out. Her favorite kind of day.

**A/N: Thank you again, reviewers, for your feedback, and the fun conversations we've had; definitely the best motivator ever to get more written! BlurtitallOut, I hope the first part of this chapter works for you; definitely Sebastian isn't usually in saint mode, but helping redeem Dave is important to him. Megeen, welcome, and hope you continue to enjoy! I'mJustDefyingGravityX3, msdarque, English Gleek, Dancing in the Rayne, I hope this meets your approval too. This story isn't done, but it's starting to get closer. More soon!**


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Still don't own Glee, or stuff. Or songs. Just love 'em, and borrow with affection.**

Christine Anderson was interrupted in laughing with her sister in the kitchen when she heard the doorbell again. "Got it!" she sang out, and opened the door to find a tall, handsome young man with a preppy hairdo smiling broadly at her.

"You must be the new Warbler! Come in, come in, the guys are in the back, lots of food!"

Sebastian chuckled, following the tiny, energetic woman ushering him into the house. "Thank you! My name is Sebastian Smythe."

"Blaine! One more!" Blaine looked up to see his mom triumphantly leading Sebastian into the crowded family room. He watched as his mom showed Sebastian all about the food setup. When she was content that hospitality had been satisfied, she retreated to the kitchen, thinking maybe this would be a good time to make some more coffee.

Blaine showed up at his side as he heaped his plate with the delicious foods there. "I sort of didn't expect to see you back." Realizing how unwelcoming this must have sounded, he hastily added, "but I'm glad you did – you can see that my mom cooks for an army!"

"And miss out on all this? You do know that your mother's spreads of east meets west cuisine are a Warblers legend? And I was told there would be The Cake." Blaine marveled at how this guy could be so smooth; no one would guess that not long ago they'd all been through a very awkward conversation, courtesy of Karofsky. At first Blaine had panicked a little, wondering if he would have brought the linebacker with him. Which was stupid, he self-corrected; why leave, and then come back a little later with the guy still in tow?

"The Cake? Wow, word gets out! There are three of them, so yeah, it's here. And I'm beginning to think there won't be leftovers of that."

Sebastian took in the sight of the Warblers, relaxed, happy, and in the process of eating to capacity. Kurt was across the room, chatting with Jeff and Nick, and had just burst out laughing at something they said. Blaine smiled at them, and wondered if it was about him: they'd spent way more than enough time together at Dalton to have a huge stock of stories to trot for Kurt's amusement. Blaine just loved how happy Kurt looked, and that for once his posture was relaxed. Sebastian took all of this in, nodding to himself; Bear Cub was so right, it was obvious the way these guys looked at each other that they had it bad.

Kurt noticed Blaine, caught his gaze and smiled a small smile, just for him, before joining him at his side. "Hello again," he said, turning to the tall Warbler.

"Hello to you too." Sebastian answered, as he worked his way over to a chair that had a little table beside it.

"What you're doing, it's really great. I just wanted to say that." Kurt's tone was earnest, and his gaze intense as he pulled up a chair next to him. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine. He's not used to saying sorry like that, that's all. He'll be okay. Mmm! These rice noodles are insane! This sauce is so good!" He was momentarily lost in the tastes of the delicious dishes Blaine's mom had put out.

"They really are," Kurt agreed. "Thank you. I can't really help him, you know, not with our history."

Sebastian nodded vigorously. "You shouldn't even try. Got it covered."

"Kurt? We're going to serve dessert in a minute. You wanted coffee with it, right?" Blaine was looking around, counting heads for coffee.

"Absolutely." Turning to Sebastian, Kurt asked, "you in?"

"Like Flynn. Yes, yes, I'd love some."

The next Monday morning at school Kurt asked Blaine, "just curious, so were you arranging another job with Wes and David?"

"Yup, next Saturday. Wanna come?" he asked, in a teasing tone.

"And crash another little girl's party? Mixed feelings on that one!" Kurt said, breezily.

Blaine laughed out loud, and when he could breathe again he got out, "No, no, nothing like that! It's the Harvest Festival at Stewartstown. They hired me as part of the entertainment."

Kurt was filled with a vision of hicks. Hicks in overalls, hicks in trucks, hicks with their hick kids picking fruit. Hicks eating fair food. Hicks that might beat him up if they saw him being coupley with Blaine. "Dress code overalls? Straw hat? I have nothing to wear for this!" he said, punctuating it with his best diva sigh.

Blaine frowned for a second, suspecting what might be behind this. Fixing Kurt with his best puppy eyes, he said in a low, sexy voice, "I thought you couldn't resist the charms of The Amazing Blaine."

"You're right. I can't!" Kurt admitted, feeling his stomach do backflips as Blaine flirted. They'd agreed to stay away from PDAs at school, not wanting to make life any harder than it had to be. Neither of them realized what was apparent to the most casual observer, though: that Blaine looked hardly anywhere else if Kurt was anywhere around. And Kurt simply looked like a different person if Blaine was there. Mercedes had said as much to Rachel, who'd readily agreed. Kurt only ever looked that way in the tough-looking boy's presence.

"Besides, it'll be fun! I used to go to it when I was a kid. And we're in luck, it's practically halfway between here and Westerville, so it's not too hard on the guys."

"You will be wearing the Armani?" Kurt asked hopefully.

"Of course. Hope it's not freezing, like last year!"

"We'll just have to think of a good way to keep you warm," Kurt cooed.

"Surrounded by hicks? Really, Kurt?"

"Mind in the gutter so early in the morning?" Kurt grinned evilly. "And here I was, just innocently contemplating wardrobe issues."

Blaine groaned, "this is going to be a looong school day, isn't it?"

"It is." Kurt squeezed his arm. "See you at lunch!"

Later that afternoon, before his last class, Kurt found himself accosted by one Sue Sylvester. "Porcelain!"

"Hello, Coach." He gestured to the direction he was walking. "On my way to class..."

"Never mind. Follow me, my office."

Again, he thought. Well, at least they weren't far from it, so it wouldn't be much of a detour.

"You're walking well, Porcelain. Still doing your PT?"

"Yes, Coach. Thanks, those guys are awesome."

"Good. You need a challenge, and I need you and to sing at the next game, with Santana. Minimal prancing, I'm sure you can handle it."

"Coach, thank you, but I already said no."

"Details!" She mercurially brushed the air with her hand. "Besides, not like you're not going to be at the game anyway." She saw immediately that she was right before he even opened his mouth to answer. "So why not? You know you'd love to have a big splashy musical number, featuring you!"

He drew his mouth into a straight line. She kind of had him there; he could manage dance moves now, and he did love singing at halftime shows. "All right. One number! Which is -"

Sue's eyes narrowed as she grinned, savoring her victory. "Four Minutes. You'll be singing with Santana. Pick up your uniform at practice today. The choreography is all set, and it's built around you two."

"How did you know -"

"That you'd do it? C'mon, cheerleaders performing for football-playing boyfriends is the oldest play in the book! You didn't even make me have to mention that before you agreed to it." Sitting way back in her chair, she smirked at him. "_You're welcome_. See you at practice." She pushed the colorful pass across the desk to him. "Take it – can't have my star Cheerio stuck in detention for tardiness!"

Later that afternoon, clad in his new Cheerio outfit, he followed Santana as she walked him through the choreography. He had to admit it was really a blast; Santana was all flirty and sensuous in her moves with him, and their voices worked well together on this number. Performing with the full marching band backing them would be epic!

"Satan?"

Santana smiled at Kurt's pet name for her. "Flouncy Smurf?"

Which he didn't love at all. "How about we keep this a secret, until Friday's game?"

"Someone's wanting to impress a hot football player? Maybe I can have someone keep score, see how many of them are gay," she murmured dangerously. "I mean, we're _both_ kind of hot in this, hate to admit it. Then again," she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, "Coach Sue's smart to broaden the appeal. Something for everyone, you know."

Santana relished how Kurt had blushed all the way down to his collarbones. "Don't worry, sweetie, I'll tell the marching band to keep you safe until after the game." And added, looking at him with what looked like genuine sympathy, "it's all right. I swear. I hate to admit it, but you're good. You have no reason to be shy, at all."

"When did you get to be so nice?"

"Shh. It's a secret. If you tell, I'll ruin the surprise for Friday."

He hugged her, and she only was stiff for a second before returning it. "You wanna see the look on his face as much as I do," he said playfully.

"You got me. Now, go shoo! The football team's going to be out here in like two minutes, and if you don't get lost even those idiots will figure it out."

Sue Sylvester watched from the sidelines as the male half of her featured act left the field. She nodded in approval; even after the routine they'd just completed, she couldn't detect a limp. Outstanding.

**A/N: How could I not have Cheerleader Kurt? Would Blaine ever forgive me, if he knew what he was missing? I'm going with Santana here, since her singing really is great, and she's logical in this story. (Sorry, 'Cedes! Next time!)**

**Happy to report that at least one reader has made The Cake, with happy results. My dear spouse pretended outrage at my sharing the secret recipe, but he agreed that you were worth sharing with.**

**I am energized by your feedback and ideas, as always, and that you are such a nice readership. Thanks too, to all those favoring me with favorites, and followings!**

**PracticalAmanda, so glad you've found my story, and thanks for your feedback and messages! Blurtitall Out, loquaciouslauryn, DancingintheRayne, I'mJustDefyingGravityX3, Writing Memories, and msdarque, you know I love to see notifications from you. Megeen, hope you're still liking my handling of Sebastian and Karofsky. There'll be more of them later.**

**OK, listen up if you're still reading this A/N: I'm announcing the return of Easter Eggs (added content in a PM) as a limited engagement – to my reviewers or those who send a PM, for this chapter... a fun little teaser for a chapter in the not-so-distant future. I'd gotten away from them, and felt I had some nice ones ready to offer, so claim 'em if you want 'em! :-)**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Thanks so much for your messages and reviews, and apparently no one in this 'verse doesn't love cheerleader Kurt! As if I ever doubted ;-)**

**I don't own Glee, etc., no change there.**

_Sue Sylvester watched from the sidelines as the male half of her featured act left the field. She nodded in approval; even after the routine they'd just completed, she couldn't detect a limp. Outstanding._

Kurt shifted uncomfortably in his chair at Glee practice. These past few days of practicing his halftime number until they got it up to Sue's standards had been hard; he'd gone home the last few nights and attacked dinner with an almost Finn-like appreciation, then had only just enough time for homework before his shower and moisturizing routine, and sleep. He was glad that it was more an overall tiredness and mild achiness; his ankle was doing really well.

Blaine saw his distracted look, leaned over and whispered in his ear, ignoring the minor spat Mercedes and Rachel were having about who got to belt which lines on the song they were working up for Sectionals. "Where _are_ you, sweetie? Can I come play too?"

Kurt swallowed. This boy will be the death of me, what was I even thinking about just then! Honestly, he couldn't remember. He turned towards Blaine and airily responded, "how do you do that to me? Whatever it was, I hope it wasn't important, because it's gone." He was rewarded with a pleased smirk from Blaine.

"Do you suppose they'd even notice if we ditched right now?" Blaine pressed on, playfully.

"Must you be such a bad influence, Mr. Anderson?" Kurt fake sighed at him.

"I'm trying to be!" Blaine turned his best puppy dog eyes to Kurt. "You've been so busy this week, and the weekend is so far away. My hot boyfriend drives me wild sometimes."

Santana had leaned forward to try to catch what they were saying. She was so happy that Kurt had finally found someone; he had never looked happier. She leered at Blaine's last whispered comment. You have no idea, bad boy, what you're in for! Coach Sue and Coach Beiste had kind of collaborated on the plans for this Friday's halftime show. It wasn't homecoming or anything, but it was an important game, since the Spartans were their main rivals. If they won this one, they might just win it all. When Coach Beiste had expressed her concerns for this matchup to Coach Sue, the Cheerios coach had launched a diabolical idea: do a halftime show so distracting and sexy that the home crowd goes wild, and the visitors are left so gob-smacked that they become easy prey. Sue had even agreed to let the Titans watch the final practice with the full marching band today, so they would be prepared. Santana secretly thought that a mere one-time exposure would not be enough to inoculate the team, but whatever. She knew that she and Hummel were _good_ at this.

Kurt smirked, remembering that Blaine had no idea about the special number he and Santana would be performing. Coach Sue had told the squad yesterday that the football team would get to watch their final run-through today, as she reminded them the goal was to shock and awe the hometown crowd and the opposing team, but not their own troops. Kurt wondered if maybe Sue should've gone into the military. He had no doubt she'd be a fierce general. "So, what're your plans for after Glee today?" As if he didn't know. He had a feeling their routine was gonna rock Blaine's world.

Blaine pouted. "Going with mom, family thing … it's Aunt Mimi's birthday. Coach Beiste said she was okay with it. Why?"

"No reason," Kurt said lightly. "Well, the weekend will be here soon."

Principal Figgins looked up, and frowned at the boy in front of him. "Mr. Karofsky, we have been over this before. Suspension, in-school or not, disqualifies you from playing in, and attending, football games and other extra curriculars. I hope you know that I hope – for your sake – you never have to experience this again."

Dave Karofsky sighed, deciding to try again. "But I've really been good. Ask Ms. Pillsbury! I haven't missed one session! And I work hard every day in the library! That must count for something!"

Figgins looked carefully at the big teen. Reports had indeed been good, better than expected. He didn't really want to discourage him so much that he gave up. "My hands are tied, David." Seeing the defeated look in his eyes, he added, "I can't undo the rules just like that," and snapped his fingers for emphasis. "But, I'll talk to the Board, and we will discuss your request." He furrowed his brow as he added, "I want a letter from you on my desk tomorrow morning, explaining to me and the Board why you'd like us to consider an exception. You'll have our decision Friday morning. You may go now."

"Uh, thank you. Thank you for listening to me. Letter. Tomorrow morning? Okay, it'll be there." Gathering his books, he retreated from the principal's office.

Santana and Kurt shared a conspiratorial grin as the football team erupted in yells of appreciation as they finished their halftime practice. They knew it; it was perfect. Santana purred at Kurt, "You can't touch this!"

"You know it!" and he grabbed his partner, and spun her around in a circle, noting the feigned annoyance on her face as he set her down.

"You better not do that Friday night, or I will _end_ you." Then she ruined the effect by laughing out loud and wrapping him in a hug, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Sam, the newest member of the football squad, saw this and moped to Finn, "how lucky is that? He gets to do _that_ with his girlfriend out there, and all those practices. Man!"

He was surprised that Finn laughed at him. "Dude, it's not what you think. But damn! That was hot! Uh, don't tell Rachel I said that, okay?"

"A bro doesn't do that to a bro, dude." He looked out at the cheerleader. "So, are you telling me she's, like, available? No boyfriend?"

**A/N: Just a quick hi; all of you who've reviewed or messaged me will have gotten a personal note from me, Easter Egg inlcuded, of course. I didn't think I'd get to write at all tonight, but managed to steal a bit of time to do this. Hope you've enjoyed. Love you, and love to hear from you! **


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: I've missed writing this, am glad to be able to snatch a little time here, for this chapter. Enjoy! As usual, don't own Glee, etc., but am happy to borrow!**

_Thursday afternoon. _

Dave Karofsky brooded; he'd put his appeal letter on Figgins' desk this morning. Tomorrow he'd have the principal's answer as to whether he'd be allowed to go to the game. He loosened his collar; it was a warm afternoon, and the library's big windows caught the western sun.

"May I open the window, Ms. Evans?" he asked the librarian, who was at her computer.

"Sure, just remind me, we'll need to close them before we go, all right?"

Dave looked out onto one of the practice fields, and wondered what was going on; the marching band was there, and all of the Cheerios, and now the football team was following Coach Beiste, to watch from the sidelines. He winced as someone sound tested a mic, eliciting a loud squeal from the speakers. Why would the band need a mic at all, he wondered? They were always plenty loud, and never used sound systems. He stayed at the open window to watch.

_He looks so wistful_, the librarian frowned as she watched him. She knew he missed playing football, and wanted an exception to be made so he could go to tomorrow night's game. She'd even spoken to Figgins, telling him that the in-school suspension was going better than she expected; the boy worked hard most of each day. She returned to her spreadsheet, and listened absently to the music wafting in with the gentle breeze.

Dave was curious. Coach usually didn't take away practice time so the Cheerios and the band could show off for them. The Cheerios were national champions, though, so if both coaches had decided the football players should stand in a line and watch, it would probably be worth seeing it.

"Six, seven, eight!" He heard Coach Sue call out, then the opening peals of the brass instruments and drums were joined almost immediately by the Cheerios getting into formation, mixing with the band to start with, and then he watched as two Cheerios faced each other and started to sing.

Come on girl

I've been waiting for somebody

To pick up my stroll

_Wait!_ This wasn't a female voice, it was the boy Cheerio. Looking closer, he was amazed to see that it was Kurt, singing with Santana. Dave watched as they executed flirty hip-swaying dance moves as they sang.

Well don't waste time

Give me the sign

How you wanna roll

Dave's jaw dropped as Kurt advanced closer to the building, giving him a closer view. God, he looked amazing in that uniform! His jaw dropped as Kurt's voice rang out strongly

I want somebody to speed it up for me

Then take it down slow

There's enough room for both

He was glad no one was looking up, as he was staring straight at Kurt, mesmerized by the hot moves he was doing. How was this possible, he wondered? Kurt, who'd seemed so innocent, was one dirty dancer. If he'd thought Kurt was distracting before, it was nothing compared to this: clad in that body-hugging uniform, there again with those insane hip rolls, sung with his voice so confident and sexy, _oh my god..._

If you want it, you already got it

If you thought it, it better be what you want

If you feel it, it must be real,

Just say the word, and I'm a' gonna give you what you want!

The routine went on flawlessly, and Dave found he couldn't even concentrate on the suggestive lyrics, lost in the sounds and sights in front of him. Damn! I am _going_ to be there, permission or not, Dave resolved.

The football team must've agreed with him, as they erupted into loud cheers as the number ended. Dave waited to see if they'd run through it again, but he heard Coach Sylvester loud and clear. "Porcelain! Santana! Outstanding. Well boys," she turned and addressed his team, "you have witnessed Operation Shock and Awe; your only task now will be to crush your competition." The boys all cheered again, as the band and the Cheerios happily celebrated. As much as they loved this routine, they'd done it so many times, and were glad that tonight practice wouldn't run so long.

* * *

Dave was at the principal's office early the next morning, and had to wait for Figgins to arrive.

"David, I know what you're going to ask me," Figgins said in a resigned tone, not making eye contact with he anxious teen at first, then he looked up to tell him, and get it over with. "I am sorry, you do not have permission to attend the games until your suspension is completed."

"That is _so_ not fair! Damn it!" Dave kicked the base of the file cabinet closest to him.

Sighing, Figgins decided not to call him on the mild swear. "David, I understand your frustration. You will be eligible to re-join school and activities soon enough." Then he watched as the upset teen exited his office without another word.

Dave half sprinted down the hallway towards the library, passing by none other than Kurt, who was surrounded by Cheerios. He felt like screaming, this was too much! But decided instead to keep going, and whipped out his phone. Ms. Pillsbury had advised him to call for help, for someone to talk to, if he felt in danger of being overwhelmed by his feelings. _Too late_, he acidly mused; he'd felt overwhelmed ever since last night's pregame performance. He felt like he'd been up all night, and was surprised that he must have fallen asleep at some point, since the alarm woke him up. He hastily texted, **I need to talk to you!**

He made it to the library before the phone vibrated in his hand, and he opened it in a flash. "And good morning to you, too, Bear Cub!" the voice on the other end sounded tired but smirky.

"Sebastian!" He knew his voice sounded a little desperate; he was glad he was alone in the library hallway.

"Whoah, there... what's got you so upset this early?"

* * *

Blaine smiled, seeing Kurt surrounded by Cheerios, laughing and at ease. Kurt looked up, seeing him, and hushed the girls, who were already starting to go their separate ways. "Later, boo," Santana purred, before leaving, with a salacious grin lobbed at Blaine as she passed him.

"Good morning!" Blaine smiled as he took in Kurt's ensemble. Those jeans should be illegal, he thought, nodding his head, and returning his gaze to his boyfriend's face.

"'Morning to you too." Kurt smiled adoringly at Blaine. "No chains this morning? Did you run out of time to accessorize?" he teased.

"You miss them? Oh, well maybe I should have _made_ time. Didn't know you were that fond of them," Blaine teased back softly, with a wicked grin.

Kurt blushed deeply, flustered, thinking_ I walked right into that one_. "Oh, I don't know. Feel free to change it up a bit."

Blaine wished they weren't at school, he had such an urge to pull him close and kiss him. "Speaking of changing it up, will you come to the game tonight?"

He was rewarded with a mysterious smile from Kurt, who answered quickly, "I wouldn't miss it. I have an outfit I think you'll love planned for it." He certainly hoped so. Santana had assured him he looked hot in his Cheerios uniform, and he knew Blaine had had to miss the preview performance yesterday. Unless one of the guys mentioned that he was in the halftime show, it would be a surprise to Blaine. Judging by Blaine's mystified expression, it still was.

Blaine thought, looking at his adorable boyfriend, _he has no idea how hot he looks, in everything I've ever seen him in_. What about tonight's outfit could possibly be more distracting than the beauty in pale grey skinny jeans, cream designer jacket, and black skintight tee in front of him? He gulped, realizing that this was not the time to indulge in such un-dapper thoughts. He decided to go with a simple, "I'm sure I'll love it, then. See you at lunch?"

Kurt inclined his head, answering in a whisper only Blaine would be able to hear, "Can't wait."

* * *

Blaine headed home after practice to get a quick dinner before having to go back in for the game. He was happy to see his mom had managed to get out of work early; her car was parked outside in its usual spot.

"Hey, mom! I'm home!" he happily called out.

"Right here, honey!" she called back, from the kitchen. "I've got supper ready."

Reaching behind, he lifted his mom and spun her around. "Blaine! Careful! I'm cooking here!" She scolded, but laughed as she said it. Seeing him in such a good mood was something she was happy to be getting used to. For the hundredth time, she thanked God that her son had adjusted to his new school, and knew a lot of his happiness had to do with his very sweet boyfriend.

"S'Ok, mom, nothing spilled," he answered, setting her down. "It smells great! Are Aunt Mimi and the kids coming, too?"

"I'm not sure, but I am! And Kurt's mom called a while back, and asked me if I'd like to sit with them. She is so nice."

Blaine was happy she was making friends with Carole, and happy she would have people to sit with at the game. "That's great, mom! This is a big game, they're our main rivals."

She frowned at him. "You did talk to your coach, I hope?"

He looked down, clearly uncomfortable. "I did. She was okay with it, I guess."

"Well, honey, you do need your hands to stay uninjured for your magic, you know."

"I know, mom."

"And I don't want you getting tackled like that again. You got a concussion last time!"

"Mom, mom, the doctor cleared me! I'm fine! But it's okay, the coach agreed that I'm just kicking. Honest!" Blaine was a little frustrated; he enjoyed playing wide receiver (though he didn't really love being tackled by half the opposing squad, and having to be in the hospital overnight and all that had stunk).

She turned a sweet smile on him, and went up on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead. "It's for the best, sweetie. Your dad thinks so too."

"Since when does he care? When did this even come up?"

"Honey, he knows about last time. And we happen to agree on this; neither one of us wants you to get another concussion. And if you jam your hand or something, how would you be able to do your show tomorrow?"

Blaine looked away, scowling at the turn this conversation had taken. While he was glad his parents agreed on some things, why did it have to be _this_? Fortunately, Coach really had been good with it; she reminded him that the original agreement that he himself had proposed was that he'd kick, and that was it. In the beginning, he'd had no interest in spending time with the team, convinced they were all annoying homophobes, but had made the bargain he did with Coach to get unlimited access to the gym. Later, after getting to know Finn and Mike better, he'd seen that some of them were decent guys. He'd actually enjoyed his brief career as a wide receiver.

"He's not going to be there, is he?" Blaine asked in a flat tone.

"Not that I've heard, sweetie. C'mon, I made your favorite steamed dumplings, and everything's all ready," she said, trying to return him to his good mood.

"You're right, it looks great." Reaching for some iced tea, he added, "you mind if I go to Kurt's after the game?"

**A/N: Lots of drama next chapter, which I should be able to get up this weekend! Thank you again to all my reviewers, and I hope all of you reading this are enjoying it! Please review, I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter, and maybe what you think is coming.**


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: I don't own Glee, or the song Four Minutes, or any other products/songs you might see here. It's almost Friday night at McKinley High, and it's a big game, so let's get to it... **

_Friday afternoon..._

Dave picked up his phone, and smiled to see the message there. _**So, Growly, pick you up at 6:30?**_ Sebastian clearly loved texting way more than he did, but he was getting used to it. **Sounds great. You're sure your plan will work?**

He fiddled with his game console controller, flipping through options on the screen, and then saw the response. _**Why would you bother having any doubt? Going to drive now, so don't even bother answering that one ;-) **_He was glad to have the distraction of a new game to take his mind off things. He didn't like lying to his parents, and he was still nervous about going to the game. He didn't want to miss it, though, especially now that he'd seen the half-time show.

* * *

Christine Anderson found a space, and looked for Burt and Carole. She zipped up her red cardigan, glad now that she'd taken it: the warm Indian summer afternoon was turning into an early autumn evening, with just a chill starting. She saw them, right where they said they'd be, and quickened her step to join them. Carole greeted her with a friendly half-hug, and Burt smiled at her and said, "Well! I've got our seats all picked out, we've got the cooler here, I think we're all ready!"

Christine didn't like football, really, but she loved being there for Blaine when she could. Sports were different at McKinley than at Dalton; here, families were expected to be involved, and most games had a dedicated group of parents ready to cheer on their children. Carole seemed to sense her thoughts, saying as they spread out a blanket on the uncomfortable bench seating, "Burt knows it all, and he's happy to explain it. Cheer when everyone in the home stands cheers, and you'll be fine!"

"It's not rocket science, Carole! I'm sure she'll do just fine," Burt added. "This should be a great game; the kids are really psyched!"

"Speaking of kids, where is your son?" Christine knew that Carole's son was on the football team, but was puzzled as to why they weren't saving a space for Kurt.

"Oh! You don't know?" Carole threw a conspiratorial glance at her fiance.

"I guess I don't? He's okay, isn't he?" She had no idea where this was heading.

Burt grinned at Carole. "Well, let's just say my boy gets to shine tonight too. But not until half-time." Seeing Christine's continued look of confusion, he went on, "Kurt's featured in the show, with the Cheerios, um, you know, the cheer-leading squad."

"Oh! I bet that part will be fun! I've always liked the marching band stuff too!"

* * *

Dave closed the door to Sebastian's sports car, and his friend immediately hit the button to lock the doors. Sebastian looked over; damn! Dave still looked nervous.

"It's not like we're about to rob a bank or something, Growly! Get a grip; just follow my lead?"

Hating himself for saying it out loud, Dave sputtered out, "_All right!_ What _exactly_ makes you so damn sure everything's gonna be fine! This isn't a game to me, I could get into real trouble here!"

Sebastian spun around to face him, his face full of confidence, a smirk lurking as he raised his eyebrows and decided to spell it all out. "Fine. Let's do this. It's just not that hard. First, who's doing the gate?"

"Well, um, boosters, so, like, parents of the football players, and band, and stuff. Yeah?"

"What do they want?"

Duh. "To sell tickets. Make money for the team..."

"Exactly. Bear Cub, they're not exactly bouncers at a trendy LA club; you pay 'em, get your ticket, get in; _they don't care_."

"But what if they recognize me?"

Sebastian smiled evilly. He'd made Dave wear Trent's old Dalton sweatshirt, and given him a goofy hat to wear, like the one Jayne wore in Firefly. He looked funny as hell, but not as recognizable as usual. Getting him to strip off his letterman jacket had been the first step. "I'm paying, goofball. I'll do _all_ the talking. Trust me, they won't even see you."

Dave wasn't sure if he should feel happy about this comment or not, but decided Bastian was right. "Okay."

Sebastian smirked, getting in had been exactly as easy as he'd said it would be. The moms doing the tickets had been incredibly easy to charm. Just for fun, he'd even flirted with them. Dave followed, just shaking his head, conceding that Bastian probably could talk his way into a bank vault. "And we're going over there," Sebastian pointed at the away team's bleachers.

"No way! I am _not_ going to do that!" Dave spat out.

"You think sitting next to your classmates is a way to blend?"

Dave rolled his eyes. "Fine."

* * *

"All right, guys, this is it, we can do this!" Finn shouted out to his team, as they gathered in the locker room. "We've got this! And with the half-time show, we most definitely have the home field advantage!" This was met with loud catcalls, shouts of "hell, yes!" and high fives. Blaine was happy to be part of it, but felt a little detached, still brooding a bit about being restricted to field goals and punting.

Coach Beiste watched her men get psyched up, and smiled. The Titans were tough, but these guys really wanted it, and she'd drilled them hard in the importance of playing as a team. She had to laugh at Coach Sue's half-time plan; if it worked, so much the better; a distracted team would be all that much easier to beat. "All right guys, gather round!" And she prepared to launch into her final words she'd say to them before they hit the field.

* * *

Blaine had plenty of time to watch the action, and found his mom, happily chatting with Burt and Carole. Where was Kurt? They had really good seats, so they were near the home team. There wasn't even a space for him. But Burt looked happy and relaxed, so he figured Kurt must be okay somewhere. He scanned the seats for Glee club members, figuring maybe he'd be sitting with them. It was nearly halftime, and he still hadn't found him. He felt naked without his ever-present cell phone; wishing he could just text him. He was shaken out of his reverie by the loud moans of despair emanating from the team and the crowd, and heard the ref's call: "fourth down, 10 yard penalty – offense." This sucks, he thought; they'd almost tied, and then the Spartans intercepted and now they were behind by six points. They had just enough time, maybe, before the half, but now they were on their own 30 yard line, 4th down. He didn't even wait for the Coach's signal, but just nodded to her as he jogged onto the field, ready to punt.

He felt confident; he was a strong kicker, and he intended to punt the ball as far away from his own end zone as possible, hopefully preventing another touchdown before the half. He'd given up hope of scoring; this situation was desperate. He heard the whistle, got into position, and then … what the hell! The ball was snapped back at him, but it went wild; maybe not even Finn could have caught it, it went too high over Blaine's head. Live ball! Damn! Blaine scrambled, picked up the ball behind him, and started to run. His teammates rallied, blocking and protecting him as he darted up the field in a crazed zigzag pattern, until he was taken down on the Spartans' 35 yard line. He hadn't resisted once he felt it coming, not wanting to be crushed or otherwise mangled. The crowd went crazy, hope restored, his teammates jumping and cheering as he walked off the field.

So close … it looked like they'd get a chance to tie up the score, but Blaine's hopes sunk a little more with each wasted down. And then there they were: only at the 28 yard line, 4th down, again. He jogged onto the field once more, this time getting ready to try to kick a field goal. He heard his name being yelled, and smiled. This time the set-up was perfect, and the field goal was indeed pretty, sailing right through the uprights! And then it was done, they were at half time, down by three points, but far from beaten.

"Dude! That was awesome! That kick was freakin' beautiful!" Finn clapped him on the shoulder, and the team agreed, high fiving him and passing him a Gatorade.

* * *

"Spartans, get ready for Operation Shock and Awe!" Puck yelled out, after they'd all refreshed themselves in the locker room, and listened to Coach's short speech. She'd ushered them out, telling them they probably didn't want to miss any of this, and the boys needed no encouraging. Most of the band's routine was done, but the finale was about to start, as the Cheerios took the field along with the band. The Spartans were lined up on their own side, eager to start again. Coach Sue had made sure they knew that the national champion Cheerios had a special dance number planned, and their entrance on the field in time to see it fit her plans exactly.

Sue got the thumbs up from the sound check booth, as well as the all-clear from Mr. Springer, the band teacher. Smiling, she grabbed her bullhorn, and at full volume yelled into it, "5, 6, 7, 8!"

Kurt and Santana were hidden behind the band members, in their tall hats, mics in place, and they shared a conspiratorial smirk. He _had_ this; he knew his dancing was up to par, and was a match for Santana in the number they'd planned. Santana loved it that she was featured, and caught Britt's eye as they got their cue a few bars in to dance onto the field.

Sue's choreography was inspired: her Cheerios were mostly facing right at the Spartans' line, and the girls weren't so much tumbling or doing their typical cheer moves so much as they were dancing; and since they were dancing to a hot Madonna number, it was hot indeed. Kurt and Santana started off by playing to the home crowd. They hadn't yet begun to sing before Kurt found Blaine, who was appreciating the band and their precision moves. And now it was time, he nodded at Santana, and sidled up to her, to sing to her the first lines.

**_Come on girl,_**

**_I've been waiting for somebody_**

**_To pick up my stroll –unh!_**

Kurt dipped down into a hip roll that reached the ground before he straightened up, back to back now with Santana. Blaine had snapped his head around so fast, it was comical,when he heard the first few notes sung, and Sebastian laughed out loud at the sight, from directly across the fields where he and Dave were sitting in the Spartans' section.

_Oh my wizarding god! _Blaine felt his mouth drop open as he finally found Kurt: right in front of him, singing and dancing with Santana. It didn't shock him at all that Kurt sounded perfect, but if this is what he meant by a special outfit, _no shit_! The tight Cheerios uniform clung to his lithe form all over in a way his elaborate outfits never did, showing the perfect lines of his upper body, and how he moved like a dancer. Now Santana was singing back to him

**_Well, don't waste time_**

**_Give me the sign_**

**_Tell me how you wanna roll_**

They completed their back to back shimmy and separated, running to mix with the band before emerging on the edge of the Cheeerios, who were all dancing to the beat. Kurt turned his head to sing to her, and slowly danced back to the center towards her, doing amazing hip gyrations that were driving Blaine crazy, which only intensified as Kurt sang out, loud and clear

_**I want somebody**_

_**To speed it up for me**_

_**Then take it down slow**_

_**There's enough room for both**_

Now they were in touching distance again, as Santana flirted with him and sang back

_**Well, I can handle that**_

_**You just gotta show me where it's at**_

_**Are you ready to go?**_

_**Are you ready to go?**_

And they sang in harmony, now

_**If you want it, you already got it**_

_**If you thought it, it better be what you want**_

and they broke into a quick grapevine move, now moving towards the Spartans line. Blaine strained to watch them, and was eager for them to come back to their own line, which they did moments later, as Kurt growled out, sounding unbelievably sexy,

_**Time is waiting!**_

She sang back at him

_**We only got four minutes to save the world!**_

He answered back assertively

_**No hesitating!**_

Now singing together,

_**Grab a boy, grab a girl!**_

And Blaine felt like he'd explode as Kurt's smoldering gaze rested right on him. _Oh God!_ Blaine wasn't sure he could breathe! And he was glad for the elaborate football protective gear – he definitely had something to hide going on, and _oh, my lord!_ When they sang "Madonna!" the body rolls Kurt was doing about undid him. They played with the audience, running apart again and then dancing back together to complete a back to back type dirty dance, all the while singing in a voice that just floored Blaine. Sure, he'd heard Kurt sing before, but never like this! Never anything at all like this!

They completed the number and ran off the field from where they'd emerged. Blaine stumbled backwards onto the bench as the band marched off to an elaborate percussion number.

Coach Beiste was at his side seconds later. "You okay, buddy? You look kinda pale all of a sudden."

"Uh, I'm a little lightheaded, yeah." Blaine was amazed he could string sentences together. He'd seen the Cheerios go in, and he added, "can I just go in for a minute? I'm feeling a little sick."

"Go. Do what you gotta do, drink, and get back here." She knew she could have her backup kicker start things off, and he really didn't look good at all for some reason.

Blaine just nodded, and took off for the locker rooms.

* * *

Across from the Titans, while Four Minutes was going on, Dave found his shirt tugged hard as Sebastian grabbed his shirt to get his attention.

"You little liar! You knew all about this, didn't you! You wanted to ogle Hummel's sexy dance number!" Smirking, he added, "I must say, you've got good taste." And forcibly turning Dave's head towards him, he added, "and this _can't go on_. Even _I _think this is creepy!"

Dave shook Sebastian off. "Shut up! Not now," and he watched the dancers with a dangerous intensity.

"You can't have him, damn it!" And Sebastian gave up talking to Dave, figuring he'd do damage control after. Besides, people all around them were giving them angry looks, wanting to focus on the show, not the arguing boys in front of them. Sebastian laughed, wondering just how incapacitated the Spartans would be; most of the Cheerios' dancing seemed to be directed at their guests, with the girls throwing flirty looks over their shoulders at the opposing team, and shaking their asses, and swaying their hips in a way that left little to the imagination. He admired whoever had come up with this dirty trick; he found it hilarious!

* * *

Blaine staggered into the locker room, still feeling like he was hyperventilating, needing desperately to calm down. "Hey, kicker, don't they need you out there?"

Blaine spun around; no, he hadn't imagined it; there was Kurt, smiling at him in that impossible getup, both of them sweaty. "Not as much as I need you" he growled, grabbing Kurt in a tight embrace and kissing him with hard, insistent kisses, which Kurt soon returned. He gasped for air, drawing away for a moment, to growl out breathily, "Oh my God, Kurt! You have no idea!"

He was astonished to hear Kurt's laughter at this. "Blaine! I never knew you had a cheerleader thing going on!"

Blaine backed up slightly, surprised but now realizing it. "You don't know, do you? How is that even possible!"

Kurt looked at him with growing alarm. What was wrong with Blaine, all of a sudden?

"You – you freakin' were practically doing an exotic dance out there! What the hell!" Blaine tried to take a deep breath. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Kurt was a little alarmed at how serious Blaine was, though he was starting to see how what he'd viewed as strictly a performance was maybe more successful than he'd imagined. He tried to laugh it off, "well, Coach Sue did call it Shock and Awe – the point being to incapacitate _the opposition_." He leaned forward to kiss Blaine's nose sweetly. "It looks like maybe we sustained a little collateral damage."

Kurt was glad to see Blaine's composure returning. Blaine growled sexily, "what if I'm not interested in sharing that side of you?"

"Don't worry; didn't you notice me singing to you for most of it? I mean, I like Santana and all, but not in that way," he giggled, reaching over to play with Blaine's hair. "I'm yours. I swear it."

Blaine groaned, turning pale again. "You, Kurt Hummel, are going to be the death of me. You hear me?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him. "Meaning, of course, the AP Shakespeare death kind of thing. Oooh, as Santana would say, 'wanky'!"

They were interrupted then by a clipboard-wielding Artie. "Blaine? You okay? Coach sent me to check on you!"

Kurt mouthed 'later' at him, and sent him off with a playful push where Artie had come from, and Blaine reluctantly rejoined his team.

* * *

Sebastian was completely pissed; he'd lost sight of Dave for just a second, and now he was nowhere to be found. What the hell! He hated the helpless feeling washing over him, suspecting trouble, and knowing that he didn't know his way around here at all. Damn! He pushed through the spectators in front of him, and headed off in what he hoped was the right direction.

**A/N: Yes, a cliffhanger! I hope I did that key scene justice for y'all! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this, and your speculations. But time's up, till next time! Stay tuned ;-)**

**Thanks to all my reviewers (I've written back to you all individually by now), and all you who are enjoying, following, favoriting, etc. By the way, I did put out a one-shot this week, You're Having My Baby; very short (under 500 words), if you need some comic relief to cool down with. **

**I hope to update again soon, hope you really did like this chapter!**


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: Don't own Glee, or products etc. you see here (just borrowing!) … see you at the end note!**

_From last chapter..._

_They were interrupted then by a clipboard-wielding Artie. "Blaine? You okay? Coach sent me to check on you!"_

_Kurt mouthed 'later' at him, and sent him off with a playful push where Artie had come from, and Blaine reluctantly rejoined his team._

_Sebastian was completely pissed; he'd lost sight of Dave for just a second, and now he was nowhere to be found. What the hell! He hated the helpless feeling washing over him, suspecting trouble, and knowing that he didn't know his way around here at all. Damn! He pushed through the spectators in front of him, and headed off in what he hoped was the right direction._

Blaine stumbled out to join the team, still in a happy daze, barely aware of the noises of the game unfolding, until he was prompted to get in position for another field goal kick. Sprinting out onto the field, he summoned his composure, and mused as he got into position that this was performance mode for him, just like his singing or magic, and quickly focused his attention. His aim was true, again, and the home spectators exploded in applause and happy yells, and the band broke into their fight song as the Titans' lead strengthened: it was starting to look like they really could beat their arch rivals!

* * *

Kurt heard the happy crowd, and smiled, before turning to the Cheerios workout room. He punched in the combination for the keyless lock (which Sue changed weekly) and stepped into the pristine space. Crossing to the fridge, he fished an iced gel pack out for his ankle (which had not hurt during the halftime show, but was definitely complaining now) and a Powerade. He sat on the bench opposite the door, applied the pack to his ankle, and sang softly to himself, between sips of his drink.

* * *

Damn! Sebastian raced through the school, trying to guess where Dave had disappeared to. The interior of the school was a contrast to the happy sounds outside, which he could still hear, but it also had the kind of quiet only an empty big building seemed to give off. He stopped himself from yelling the boy's name: if possible, he wanted to take care of this without adding in more trouble from the school.

He rounded a corner, and sensed before he knew it that this was leading to the lockers; when he arrived at the boys' locker room (where under very different circumstances he'd first met Dave), the disarray of extra bits of football equipment, mostly empty cups and bottles of sports drinks and water, and the smell of a room recently vacated by sweaty teens hit him. "Hey! Anyone here?" he yelled out, looking around before giving up; the place was empty.

* * *

He'd seen the rest of the Cheerios gather on their bench area on the field; Hummel hadn't joined them. He'd waited for Sebastian's attention to drift away for a moment, and disappeared into the crowd, keeping his head down as he slipped into the school. Hearing their manager coming back his way, he'd ducked into a darkened hallway as Artie rolled by. He was glad he'd stayed there, as seconds later Blaine followed after. He smiled; Kurt was probably still there, and probably alone.

* * *

Sebastian was lost now; that last turn didn't seem to have made any sense. Damn! _You idiot_, he chastised himself. _What century are you in, again?_ And sent off a text. _**Growly, hide and seek isn't really my thing. Call me back. NOW!**_

* * *

Dave headed to the end of the hallway, where the Cheerios' locker room was located. Of course! As if Hummel was going to get into that getup in front of the guys! He walked quietly, looking through the window on the outer door, _yes_, and _yes_! The room was lighted, and Hummel was sitting right there, on a bench in the outer area in the workout room, icing his ankle. He reached for the door handle, and his cell phone rang out loudly in the abandoned hallway.

Sebastian was mildly surprised that it worked, so soon! _Hah! _He heard the noisy cell phone chime, and headed towards it.

Kurt looked up, startled by the sudden noise. In the dim hallway, he made out Karofsky's face looking in at him in the window on the door. Why was he wearing that weird hat? He felt a moment of panic, but then realized that it was highly unlikely Karofsky would know this week's combination: 4MINS (chosen by Coach Sue, of course).

Dave was shaken out of his frustration at the locked door by the sound of running steps followed by hands gripping his shoulders, spinning him around, and slamming him into the painted cinderblock wall.

"What the hell! What do you fucking think you're doing!" Sebastian yelled, inches from his face. "Don't answer that, I think I can figure that out!" he went on, glancing through the window Dave had been glued to.

"I just wanted – "

"What! To stalk Kurt? _Talk_ to him? Pul-lease, there is no way – "

"Why can't I just – "

"Damn it, Growly! You are getting out of here, right now!"

Kurt could no longer see Karofsky, but he couldn't help hearing all of it. He decided to stay right where he was, unaware that he had started to tremble, and cradled his face in his hands.

"Fuck!" Dave yelled, pushing the taller teen away, with a hard shove.

Sebastian shoved back, just as hard. He turned to Dave, his voice coming out in a quiet, threatening growl. "So help me, you goddamn idiot, you will get us out of here, right now, and out to my car. You will get in it. Or I will fucking kick your ass."

Kurt stayed where he was, frozen. He would be sure to thank Sue for her over-the-top paranoia, never gladder of a locked door than he had been just a minute ago. He was suddenly feeling so shaky, and cold, and his ankle hurt like hell. He looked up, and hated the tears that threatened to fall. More than anything, he wanted what he couldn't have right then: Blaine's warm arms around him.

* * *

Sue Sylvester did as she always did, controlling the action from the sidelines as the Cheerios continued to simultaneously whip the home crowd into a frenzy and keep on distracting the opposing team. Kurt was only on the halftime performance; she knew that really that was all he'd been crucial for, today. She scanned the bench for him, and failing to locate him anywhere, she called her captain over.

"Santana!"

"Yes, Coach!" The girl jogged over quickly.

"You know what to do, take over until I get back."

"Got it, Coach!" And Santana rejoined the squad, planning their next move.

Sue went with her gut instinct, which, she congratulated herself, was usually flawless. Striding down to her Cheerios' workout and locker area, she saw the light on inside. Bingo.

Punching in this week's code, she let herself in. Kurt was there on the bench, icing his ankle. She wondered why on earth he looked so pale, and scared. "Porcelain! That performance was outstanding! They'll be talking about that one for years!" She smiled at him, completely sure that what she said was true. "I hope your ankle is all right; we have to start planning the homecoming show Monday!"

Kurt debated telling Coach anything. Telling her would probably earn Karofsky a longer suspension, and he was aware that as of Monday he'd be back in classes (though still banned from extra curriculars). Being here tonight was a violation, he was sure, but no one seemed to know somehow that he'd gotten in, or noticed him: how was that even possible? No, better not to get into all that, she didn't know about the Warbler attack, and nothing had really happened...

He smiled weakly up at the towering Cheerios coach. "Just icing my ankle, like PT told me to, Coach. Thanks – I think we made an impression." Did we ever, he thought, breaking into a real smile as he recalled how undone Blaine had been. "How's the game?"

"I think Operation Shock and Awe was highly successful, just as I predicted. Now, normally, I don't have my Cheerios sink to raw sexual pandering, but you can't argue with the power of Madonna." She smirked, then frowned as she looked at Kurt. "You look cold, Porcelain."

Kurt noticed that indeed, he was; he felt shaky and shivery. "I guess I am."

Sue grabbed a large, thick fleece blanket emblazoned with the school logo and tossed it at Kurt. "C'mon out with me. I think this game might actually be worth seeing."

**A/N: I've missed you all, missed writing! Funny that the scenes in this chapter take place over a very small chunk of time, but still take a lot of time to write! So, a word from your sponsor … okay, we don't have sponsors in fanfic world, but we do have authors … I do love hearing from you. I love constructive feedback (and I've gotten some, in both reviews and PM form) which has made this a better story. Reviews are an important motivator to the writers, and I encourage you to jump right in: it doesn't have to be fancy, but go ahead and tell me what's on your mind, what (if anything) confuses you, what you'd love to see (and I grant wishes way more often than RIB!), or maybe if a particular bit was something you really liked. I don't bite, I swear :-)**

**I'd like to thank a few of you: BlurtitallOut (you've definitely influenced this fic – _because I knew you, I have been changed, for good!_), msdarque (I love it that you worry about the characters – I do that too, when they become real to me); loquaciouslauryn, you always make me laugh, and your reactions are so encouraging; I'mJustDefyingGravityX3, your comments also have helped more than once, in more ways than one, I commend you too for your generosity of spirit!; Tristan, thanks so much for your comment, I'm so glad you're enjoying this!**

**_Next up?_ Well, the Titans have a game to finish, and Sebastian and Karofsky have some unfinished business. And a certain kicker can't wait to get out of his football gear …**


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: It's Friday night, both here in my story and in life. And life is good! I've been so encouraged, hearing from some of you, and hope you enjoy the rest of this... Friday night (it will most likely be Saturday when you read it, but no matter!). I don't own Glee, etc. See you at the end note!**

The Titans' fans exploded in happy, crazed cheers, laughs, and even a few tears, as they beat the Spartans for the first time in some of the spectators' lifetimes. Sue Sylvester watched as the field became flooded with happy fans, hugging their boyfriends and girlfriends, a few eager, proud parents bear-hugging their sons and daughters. Everyone seemed to be enjoying a piece of the victory that was this night's performance: from the football players to the lowly band geeks. The Cheerios, of course, would have been a triumph regardless, but watching the happy squad members scamper around in giddy disarray she had to admit she was happy to be sharing this moment with the team. Coach Beiste found her gaze from across the field and they shared a silent salute with each other. There was nothing more she could have asked for from tonight.

Kurt and Blaine had been the first to find each other, as soon as the game was over and they could move from their positions. Kurt ran to meet Blaine, all ankle pain now forgotten, as Blaine swept his helmet off his head and reached eagerly to take Kurt in his arms. "You were amazing!" Kurt blurted out breathlessly, as Blaine proceeded to pick him up and spin him around. "Says the man who totally undid me," Blaine breathed in a sexy voice into Kurt's ear, for him alone. Blaine abruptly wanted to be away from all the crowd, alone with his jaw-droppingly gorgeous boyfriend, and he silently commended himself for keeping his display of affection to a level that wouldn't draw too much attention.

"Do you mean I just needed to re-join the squad to get you like this?" He teased right back. "I mean, I could wear the uniform to school, like the other Cheerios, if you'd prefer." He watched Blaine's face to see his reaction, and was immediately rewarded with a laughable display that switched from consideration of his proposal to a look that seemed to rule that out as too much to endure doing school hours to a self-aware Blaine that giggled at himself.

"Really, Kurt? Shall we just stand here, right here, and discuss fashion all night?"

"At this moment, I had other things on my mind, I must confess," Kurt murmured back at him.

Blaine threw his head back and laughed at this.

"Was that funny?" Kurt asked, uncertainly.

Collecting himself, Blaine grabbed Kurt's arm and guided him to the sidelines, ready to join the crowd of excited boys heading to the locker room. "I think I've just been complimented … making the fabulous Kurt Hummel forget all about fashion!"

_You'd be amazed what you make me forget_, Kurt thought to himself. "Don't flatter yourself too much, Anderson. My amnesia is temporary."

Blaine favored him with a dazzling smile. "Point taken. Meet at my house? You can leave the Cheerios uniform on if you want..."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure my fashion sense will have kicked in before then," Kurt airily replied.

"Mine too. Can't wait." And Blaine joined the last of the team inside.

Finn was enjoying the post-game euphoria, as sweaty bodies hustled to divest themselves of their game gear in the workout room, and move on to celebrating. The guys were engaging in their usual post-game banter, when he heard Bob's voice over the din.

"So, _Anderson_, looks like we're not the only ones who're gonna enjoy some _fine_ Cheerio ass tonight."

Blaine had been tuning out his teammates, busily getting ready to leave as soon as possible. Coach was seeing to the gear, congratulating players as she went.

Blaine stood up, and faced Bob and his friends. His voice carried as he challenged him to continue. "Did I hear you right, Bob?"

Bob swaggered up to the kicker, and a few of his cronies followed, watching with interest as Bob decided to taunt the crazy goth kicker, who they had learned was gay some time ago, when he'd started paying obvious attention to Hummel. "Hell, yeah, I mean, that halftime routine was _hot_, no doubt! Your boy really knows how to strut his stuff."

Blaine put his shoulder pads down, and stepping in very close to his would-be tormenter, he laughed in his face, then answered as his face darkened, all traces of humor gone, "Well, Bob, if by _'my boy' _you mean _Kurt_, and you're telling me _he_ was the one who got your attention, all I can say is _welcome to the team!_" And he smiled at him, opening his arms in welcome.

Bob's face reddened, as he yelled back, "What the fuck do you mean! You freaking -"

"Really?" Blaine interrupted, stepping closer still, yelling, "finish that sentence!"

"Don't you go calling me a homo, you freaking _faggot_!"

"Shut the hell up! All of you! And get down, all of you, immediately!" Coach Beiste had materialized behind Bob as she heard the beginnings of a fight. "All of you! Take a knee!"

She waited for the team to obey and addressed Bob. "I'm not even going to bother to ask you to repeat what you said, or ask you if you really did it. I was _right there_!" Glaring at the team, she yelled out, "No one is leaving until I say so. Finn, get the guys out of the locker room and showers, I'm gonna talk to everyone at one time." Finn nodded, stunned into silence, as the rest of the team was, and went to go do as she asked.

Shannon Beiste waited, saying nothing until the whole team was there. Quiet murmurs had broken out, and she let them happen until everyone was present. "No one leaves until we're done here, and I want you all to listen closely." She was clearly fuming, as she glared at Bob and his friends, and then surveyed her team.

"This night should be a time of celebration; you guys were amazing out there. But I've gotta stop and address this right now." She took a deep breath, taking in the quiet boys all around her. "Bob, what would the penalty be for calling Shane the N word?"

Bob looked puzzled. "Wha? What? I mean, I didn't do that! What -"

"Answer it."

Bob looked away, then down at his feet. "I could get expelled."

"Tell me why." Her voice was steely, no nonsense.

They'd all had to learn about this in Freshman Orientation, and then had to sign the school's Code of Conduct at the start of each year. Ohio had had some awful times with racial incidents, with horrible deeds of violence directed at black people in particular. Use of the word "nigger" was considered a hate crime, and the penalties were severe. No one he knew even threw that word around. He looked up and answered her. "Because it's classified as a hate crime."

She addressed the whole room now. "Do you want to know something? When I was your age, we didn't have the phrase 'The N word'. I'm ashamed to say it, but some people were pretty free with it – the whole word, said just the way you said 'faggot' right there. It's no better, and it's _every bit as asinine_! And I won't have it here. At all. Bob, see me Monday morning, 7 AM sharp, in Principal Figgins' office. The rest of you, don't forget this; this is not finished."

She shook her head, hating that this had happened, but glad she heard it, to try to stop it. "Get out of here, Bob." The cowed boy left, without a word. "The rest of you, I am proud of you for what you did on the field tonight. I want to be proud of _all_ of you, on and off the field. Remember that. All right, dismissed, you can go after you stow the gear."

It was like a spell had been broken; the boys moved, and after a minute, started to pick up where they'd left off on their post-game plans. Blaine was amazed; he hadn't expected this kind of support. Coach Beiste approached him. "Kid, you all right?"

"Yeah, Coach, I am. Um, thank you."

She smiled at him. "You saw me, didn't you?"

"What do you mean?" He hazarded a smile at her, wondering if she'd caught on.

"You led him right into that, didn't you?" Her smile was wicked now, as her suspicion deepened.

"Oh, I assure you, Coach, I wouldn't have wanted anyone to say insulting things about my boyfriend." Blaine's attempt at an innocent look was spoiled by the hint of a smirk she saw right away.

Shaking her head and smiling, she said quietly, "Leading the witness much, Anderson? I hope you're considering a career in law," and she patted him on the shoulder. The locker room had already returned to a celebratory mood, as the nearest players noticed that Coach seemed more relaxed as she talked to Blaine.

"I just might do that," he smiled back. He stashed the rest of his gear, and grabbed for his backpack, deciding to shower at home. His phone rang out with a chime for a new message. Smiling, figuring it was Kurt (though he couldn't believe he was even home yet, let alone cleaned up to his satisfaction) and flipping it open, noted instead that it was from Wes. **Sebastian quit – he said he's given up on his community service project – Wes.**

This wasn't good news. He texted back right away, _**Why? Did something happen?**_

He didn't have long to wait until he got an answer that was no answer, **He didn't tell me much; he was pretty annoyed. I just asked him now, and he said 'ask Kurt'.**

This made no sense. He'd just seen Kurt, he was fine! He dashed off a text to Kurt, and hurried out to his car.

**A/N: Lots going on here! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this! [Klaineness in next chapter, eventually, I promise!]**

**Meanwhile, thanks so much to all of you reading, and most particularly my reviwers. I'm just gonna take a moment to recognize them here in a shout-out (read on, I'm going to answer some of their inquiries right here...)**

**Tristan** – Dave and Sebastian becoming something more? Maybe not right away, it seems they've hit a bump here, but that story isn't finished...

**Sopphires** – thank you for your kind words! Readers, check her out if you haven't already (and I know some of you have); she's writing some seriously good klainefic!

**I'mJustDefyingGravityX3** – Sebastian is indeed nice sometimes, but sorry, right now he's pissed as hell. I kind of do love it when my readers actually worry about my characters – I do that too when their story gets me!

**BlurtitallOut** – Your degree of observation and attention to the craft of writing is an inspiration, always (guys, she's another one to check on, seriously!). You wondered if Blaine would be too hormonal to notice something being 'off' with Kurt (and you're right, he's so good at hiding his thoughts). I'm afraid Wes' text is going to let that cat right out of the bag.

**Loquaciouslauryn** – Well, there was a tiny bit of happy klaineness in this chapter, enough to keep you happy, I hope. There will be more! But [spoiler: only those who are still reading this A/N will get] there will be some angst to get through. Sorry! Also, friends, check her out – she has some great longer fics, and an amazing number of compact one-shots (great for a quick story fix of klaineness, just saying!).

**Claudiavonberkefeldt** – welcome! Jump on in, the water's fine! Love to have you, reviews really can be so encouraging (they are a good way for me as a writer to know if people like what they read, and if taking the time to go on will be noticed).

**DancingintheRayne** – your comments always are welcome too, and I always enjoy hearing from you!

So, dear readers, I hope to post another chapter in about 24 hours! Hope you're having a good weekend, and if you've got some thoughts on this chapter (or would like to encourage me as I type here in the dead of night) you know I love you, and love to hear from you!


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: Dear readers, thank you so much for your feedback; especially with a chapter like the last one, when I was worried I might lose you! More later, so standard disclaimer time: I don't own Glee or other products/songs etc. (just a fanfic-writin' borrower!)**

Kurt hummed happily, as he pulled his black Navigator into the driveway to number 21, Blaine's house. He'd showered, fixed his hair, and dressed in record time, eager to shower Blaine with the kisses he'd had to hold back on at school. He smoothed his jacket as he got out of his SUV and smiled; much as Blaine had appreciated the Cheerios uniform, he felt pretty certain he'd like this outfit too.

* * *

Blaine had raced home, and also showered and changed super fast, and waited anxiously for Kurt's arrival. He couldn't wait to be with him, and his mind wandered to the amazing halftime performance that had totally blown his mind (and had an undeniable effect on him physically, even now, just thinking back!). He scolded himself silently, _mind out of the gutter!_, figuring it would be a bit much to greet Kurt in that mode.

Blaine fretted; he hadn't been able to get much out of Wes, except that Wes gathered from Sebastian's seclusion (he'd turned him away in the dorm, giving the lame excuse of homework piles to address – on a Friday night) that for whatever reason he needed some space. He'd been reassured that Kurt texted him back right away when he'd gotten out of the workout room; whatever had happened, Kurt was safe, and seemed as focused on having a date in as he was.

His mom was at the Hummel residence, enjoying coffee with Burt and Carole. Putting on some of his favorite French Roast, he made some coffee to enjoy with Kurt, and prepared some grapes and cheese and crackers. While he was waiting he finished off a lonely piece of leftover pizza that was hanging around in the fridge, and heard Kurt pulling in just as the coffee beeped, ready for them to drink.

Blaine snatched open the door before Kurt could knock, and grabbed him inside, immediately surrounding him with a bear hug and coming together for a sloppy, delightful kiss. Kurt smiled as they drew back for air, and Blaine led him to the couch, singing _"I think we're alone now"_; Kurt kissed his damp curls and whispered, "Really, Blaine? Cheesy 80s? You know what, I don't care!" and giggled as they crashed onto the soft overstuffed sectional, arms and legs intertwining.

"Well, we are alone, for a few minutes, at least; Mom's at your house visiting." And Blaine proceeded to kiss Kurt's jawline, nibbled on his ear, and then moved to slow kisses on his throat, as Kurt leaned back with a soft groan, wondering how this boy could do this to him, every single damn time! "Well, good, this would be a touch awkward", his breath hitched as Blaine continued kissing his neck in a most distracting way, "if she were right here." Blaine simply hummed in response, loving Kurt's hands on his chest and sides.

Blaine noticed the wrap on Kurt's left ankle, as his foot grazed up and down Kurt's leg. "Does that hurt again, sweetie?" He bent over to examine it gently, as Kurt reassured him, "well, it was sore after halftime, but I iced it. It's still a little sore, though I'd kind of forgotten about it as of a few minutes ago..."

Blaine lowered him to fully recline on the couch, then moved so that Kurt's feet were on his lap. He started to massage the bare feet, gently at first, then a little more firmly as Kurt all but purred in response. He massaged the right ankle first, and Kurt felt like he was turning into a puddle, wondering for the thousandth time how he managed to be this lucky. "Do you want me to try this ankle?" Blaine asked softly, and Kurt nodded, reaching to unwrap it, before Blaine nudged his hand away and did it himself. Blaine looked at the thin longitudinal scar alongside Kurt's shin, and bent to kiss it gently before turning his attention back to massaging the injured ankle. Kurt felt the lightly calloused fingers gently manipulate the muscles and sore ligament, and damn! It felt like heaven. He had no idea how much time had passed, when Blaine's face was suddenly beside him, planting a light kiss on his cheek as he whispered, "better?" into his ear.

"You have no idea," he answered lazily, so relaxed now. "How on earth are you so good at this?"

"Just lucky, I guess. I wouldn't say I'm perfect at it," he teased.

"No?" Kurt honestly thought he was.

"No." Blaine answered firmly. "I think I still need practice. Lots and lots of practice. I mean, it could take months or something until I get it right..."

"Well, when you put it that way, I'd say I'll be happy to let you practice, whenever you want." Kurt stretched and yawned, and Blaine thought it was adorable how his face squinched, and he looked in that moment like a contented and spoiled cat. "Stupid scar," Kurt muttered, looking down at the offending leg.

"It's not going to be too bad," Blaine caressed his leg again, sending shivers down his spine.

"I suppose." Kurt smiled a crooked smile, "and it does remind me of other things, too." Blaine looked up, a little confused. "You held me in your arms for the first time then – the least romantic venue possible! But in all that, you held me and made me feel like I would be safe again, and I didn't even know yet it was you!" Kurt's eyes misted up; they'd talked about so many things, but not that. "You felt like home, even then."

Blaine's eyes were threatening tears by the time Kurt finished. He wanted so badly to tell him right there and then that he loved him, would do anything to protect him, and that he felt like this was forever. This feeling had been growing in him, but thinking back, he'd started falling for this beautiful boy before he'd even rescued him that day. "You do know I stalked you, back then?" he tried for a casual, teasing tone, but his uneven voice betrayed the strong emotion he was in the grip of.

Kurt smiled at him, a look full of love and peace. Being kissed senseless by Blaine was amazing, no doubt about that, but looking at him when he had that look in his eyes, and hearing him say these things in his voice, which betrayed every emotion he had as much as his expressive eyes did, was really incredible. "Tell me all about it," he encouraged.

"You did figure it out, right?"

"Maybe. I want to hear you tell me."

"It started the very first day I met you. You remember?" Blaine looked hopefully at Kurt here.

"I do. I'd just gotten a very forceful locker slam, which knocked me to the ground, and you reached up to help me stand. I didn't even get a good look at you, and then you were off!" Kurt smiled at him, remembering it perfectly. "I was so surprised to see you out in the parking lot later that day!"

Blaine smirked, and gave a little kiss to Kurt's hair before answering. "No, I wouldn't say surprised, terrified maybe is more like it," and he gave an evil grin. "That was the first time I got you alone."

"I think you enjoyed spooking me; I may or may not have forgiven you," Kurt drawled, and Blaine distracted him with his lips on his again. When he drew back to watch him, waiting for more, Kurt conceded, "all right, fine; I forgave you for looking so freaking scary a long time ago."

"You love the badboy look," Blaine cooed.

"Only on you! You delinquent," he teased. "I quite like some of your other looks as well."

Before he could elaborate, they heard the sound of Blaine's mom pulling in, and got up to get the neglected coffee as she came in the house. "Hi, mom!" Blaine greeted her, and hugged her as she joined them in the kitchen. "Did you have a good time?"

She met them with a dazzling smile that made her look too young to be Blaine's mother. "Wonderful! You were great in the game, and Burt explained it all for me. And we had coffee and coffee cake – it was so nice!" Turning to Kurt, she added, "Honey, your dad is such a nice man. And Carole is so good for him."

"I know, right? It's good to see him happy," he agreed. "Also, it doesn't hurt that she's a nurse, and makes sure he eats right!"

Christine giggled; Carole was right: Burt's son tried so hard, wanted to control everything, and was such a good son. She adored him too, and it was clear to her that they were crazy about each other. "Honey, I'm going to call it a night. Good night to you, too, Kurt!" Turning back to Blaine, she added, "remember, you've got that job tomorrow, so don't stay up too late, okay?"

"Got it, mom. Good night!"

They helped themselves to a snack with their coffees. "You do make good coffee, Blaine Anderson; I may have to keep you."

"Is that a promise?"

"Hmm... maybe."

Blaine got up, and standing behind Kurt's chair, starting kissing Kurt's neck with breathy kisses that tickled and felt incredible at the same time. "What would I have to do to get a promise out of you?"

Kurt's heart skipped a beat, he would swear it. Did Blaine really feel that way about him? He felt like the honest answer was simply nothing, nothing at all; he would gladly keep Blaine forever. It was risky to feel this overwhelmed with that emotion, like a tide that would pull him under that he would be helpless to defend against. He didn't answer, just sighed in happiness as he turned to jelly.

The quiet break in their conversation brought to Blaine's consciousness something he really didn't want to forget; the alarm of it coming back full force. He sat back down, knees touching knees, and gathered Kurt's hands in his own. His love, and protective feelings came back, as he asked him, "What happened with Karofsky tonight?"

He didn't deny it, but Blaine studied Kurt's face, now looking mystified at him. "What? How?"

"You didn't get hurt or anything?"

"Blaine! I didn't even talk to him!" Kurt hadn't wanted that fright he'd had earlier to intrude on this time with Blaine. He also hadn't wanted to bring it up.

"No. But something happened."

"Do we have to talk about this right now?" Kurt knew even as he said it what the answer would be.

"Yes! And now I'm even more worried, why do you look so scared, thinking of it!" Blaine looked worried, and was starting to sound upset.

"I don't even know how you know -"

"_Tell me!_"

"Fine. I was icing my ankle, in the Cheerios workout room, and I saw him at the window, and I heard him try to open the door."

"_What!"_ Kurt's heart sank, Blaine now was starting to look panicked.

"It was locked, Blaine. It's _always_ locked, you need to enter a code to get in, just like always!"

"Go on."

Kurt looked away. "Like I said, he couldn't get in. Then I heard Sebastian yelling at him – he sounded furious! – and he took him away. I stayed there a while longer, I don't know how long. Then Coach Sue came, and she got me a blanket, and we headed back to the game." He tore his eyes away from the floor, and looked hopefully over at Blaine, who still looked horror-struck. "Nothing happened!"

Blaine's expression darkened, as he thought of Karofsky. "Thanks to a locked door! He – he came after you, after – after the halftime show!"

Kurt stared at him, not getting where he was going with this.

"Damn it, Kurt! Don't you get it! You looked _hot_, and then you did that amazing number, and _shit!_ He probably was after you -"

"I'm fine! Don't do this -"

"Don't do what! What if he'd cornered you -"

"Stop! No, Blaine, stop right there!" Kurt's tone hit Blaine like a slap. "You wonder why I didn't want to mention it tonight? There's your answer! I'm fine, and I don't want everything to be about him and all the other assholes in the world!"

"But how am I supposed to protect you if I don't know -"

"You're my boyfriend, not my bodyguard!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not god damned Princess Peach, waiting for Mario to save her again and again! I managed before, and I don't want you obsessed with trying to fight every bully in this school!"

"But I would do anything to keep you safe -" Blaine's tone was now a mixture of anger, hurt, and confusion.

"Yes! Exactly what I'm afraid of! Do you realize you told Finn that if I hadn't been crying that I was bleeding and hurt you were going to take on Rick the Stick _and_ two of his asshole friends because of what they'd done to me? Without even thinking –"

"What is there to think about?"

"How badly _you_ could have gotten hurt, taking on three of them by yourself! You think I don't worry!" Kurt was now standing, eyes blazing. "I don't want this to be what we're about -"

"But you've got to tell me things, so I can keep you safe!"

"Aaagh! You don't get it!"

"No, because you haven't explained it to me!"

"I am not made of glass, I am not going to shatter the minute you turn your head -"

"You don't realize how dangerous someone like Karofsky can be in that situation!"

"That's it! I'm going home – you cannot lock me in a giant pumpkin for safe keeping! What the hell!" And Kurt quickly stormed out, remembering not to slam the door at the last minute. He hadn't made it to his Navigator before he dissolved in a torrent of tears.

**A/N: Don't hate me. I'll update really soon. I swear it.**

**Thanks again to my reviewers, and those who wrote me messages as well. Last chapter was one I wasn't sure would go over the way I wanted it to, but your feedback reassured me, and I needed it (not too proud to say it!).**

**This chapter, especially the end, was very hard to write, but brings some of their issues to the fore, which I'm sure you'll catch.**

_**Selibow**_**, I snuck in a 21 for you (still not sure why, but okay). **_**Loquaciouslauryn**_**, I'm afraid you were right; Kurt not telling Blaine about this himself didn't make this any better. **_**DancingintheRayne**_**, Sebastian is angry at Dave, for good reason; more later! Orange-Coyote, as you predicted, yes, drama ensued... oh well, the signs were there! **_**BlurtitallOut**_**, as you can see, Blaine did anything but brush off the Karofsky thing (though maybe Kurt wishes otherwise).**_**Claudiavonberckefeldt**_**, well, it's still playing out, hope you approved of how it's going so far. Sopphires, you know I appreciate your support, and good feedback helps grow better fics! **_**Msdarque**_**, more excitement in this chapter, some of the sweet kind, some (sigh) angsty; hope you ****liked! Tristan, hope you also enjoyed the sweet klaineness at the beginning, and forgive me for the angsty cliffhanger.**

**If you're still reading … very little happens in any chapter that is throw-away. So, solve your own cliffhanger: Kurt has stormed off, Blaine is sad … but there was a promise several chapters ago that is going to be relevant...**


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: I left Kurt in tears, so here goes! Still don't own Glee, etc.**

_**From last time...**_

"_**You don't realize how dangerous someone like Karofsky can be in that situation!"**_

"_**That's it! I'm going home – you cannot lock me in a giant pumpkin for safe keeping! What the hell!" And Kurt quickly stormed out, remembering not to slam the door at the last minute. He hadn't made it to his Navigator before he dissolved in a torrent of tears.**_

Blaine paced in his living room, crying and so frustrated. Kurt had had plenty of time to get home by now, and he'd already sent three texts, and nothing. He wanted to scream, hating himself for messing up with Kurt, and mad at Kurt for not letting him explain. He sent off another text – **Please, please let me talk to you! I want to make it right so badly!** He tried again to call him, and he didn't pick up. He felt like all the happiness they'd had just minutes ago had disappeared, and he felt like his chest had been shoved, hard.

* * *

Lights were still on at home. Kurt had managed to drive home through his tears, which never really stopped, and raced to the side door to let himself in. He opened the door quietly, hoping not to be noticed. Finn must have just gotten in; he was talking to Burt and excited about something. He managed a quick "'night!" and bounded upstairs to his room, closing the door behind him as his cell phone hummed with another text. He threw it onto the overstuffed chair in the corner, and threw himself onto the bed, stifling sobs in his pillow.

"Yeah, we had a great night, sport! Mrs. Anderson even came for coffee after, and I think she had a good time too." Burt was eager to hear from his soon to be stepson all about his night.

"Yeah, well, the game was awesome! Well, you were there, right, so you know it! I can't believe we finally beat them!" He smiled, and admitted, "of course, Coach Sue's plan to discombobulate the other guys was hilarious, but it like, so totally worked! I'm glad she's on our side, I'll tell you! Then Rachel and I went out for sundaes to celebrate, well I had ice cream and she had some weird sherberty vegan stuff, bu t she said it was good, and well, you know, we kissed and all, and that was great."

Burt smiled at the happy teen in front of him. Finn thought Rachel had a monopoly on rambling, not realizing at all how much he could do it if he was really excited. "You didn't run into Kurt while you were out, did you?" Almost on cue, he heard Kurt's hasty goodnight. They both looked towards the stairs, which Kurt had just run up at top speed. Burt nodded his head; Kurt always hugged him good night, and could be counted on to talk to him, unless he was upset about something. "Any idea?" he whispered to Finn.

"Uh, no! Not at all! I mean, he was happy last I saw him, and so was Blaine. Oh! And Blaine was awesome, you should have seen it!"

"Awesome how?" Burt was glad Finn could maybe fill in some details.

"Well, Bob, that ass I was telling you about, started mouthing off to Blaine about him being a f-, you know, and Blaine just stood up to him and called him out – and Coach Beiste was right behind him – literally! – she'd heard the whole thing! And I'm pretty sure Bob is going to be in trouble. Coach gave this great talk saying as how what he'd said was just like using the N word, and that she wouldn't tolerate it! I don't know what happened after that, but that was the last I saw of Blaine, and he was pretty stoked! And, like, I was proud of him!" Finn added.

"Wow. He didn't pick a fight or anything?"

"No, it didn't come to that. Not at all!"

"Okay. Thanks, Finn." They were both a little surprised when the phone rang out. "I got it." He picked up after the second ring. "Hello?" Damn! Again, he hadn't remembered the whole caller I.D. Thing.

"Hello, Mr. Hummel?"

He sighed, recognizing Blaine's voice right away, and said reflexively, "Call me Burt, kid. What's the matter?" He thought he heard a sob on the other end, and couldn't help but look to the ceiling. He waited a moment.

"Thanks, Burt. I'm sorry to call you so late..."

"Kiddo, I already know that Kurt's upset, and you don't sound too good either. Do you want to talk about it?" Part of him wished the answer was no; once again, he didn't know what to say, and just hoped it would come to him when he needed it.

He heard what sounded like Blaine swallowing, before he spoke. "No, ah, sir, I mean Burt! Thank you, but can you tell Kurt just one thing for me?"

"I guess. What is it?"

"Please just tell him to look at my texts, and maybe text me back?" Blaine's voice was almost a whisper.

"I can do that, son. Are you sure that's all?"

"I think so, for now. Thank you, thank you so much!"

"It's okay. Good night, Blaine."

"Good night."

Burt looked at the phone, wondering what could have happened. Call or no call, his plan was the same; time to go talk to his son. He knocked softly on the door. "Kiddo, can I come in?" He waited, as no answer came at first. He was greeted by the sight of his still-crying son, who let him in without speaking a word. Shit! Kurt usually only acted like this if he was too upset to talk!

"Hey, hey, hey," he crooned into his son's hair, as he held him close. "I don't know what this is all about, but shush, it's going to be all right."

Kurt somehow found his voice. "No, it's not! I'm such an idiot, I yelled at Blaine, and I stormed out on him, and he just doesn't get it!"

Burt took in the outburst, not knowing what to say, so he held his son, rocking him in his arms like when he was tiny, and patting his back in a slow rhythm. "It can't be that bad, son. I just talked to him -"

"What did he say?" Kurt had pulled himself away, and gazed straight at his father, studying his face. "He really didn't say much, honest. He sounded awful, just like you! And he just asked me to tell you one thing: please look at your texts, and maybe text him back. But maybe there's something you didn't know about tonight."

Kurt frowned, intent on hearing this. Burt went on. "Finn said something about how one of the guys was awful to Blaine in the locker room, and he handled it really well. I swear, Finn was actually proud of him!" _And I was too,_ Burt mused.

"Wha – what happened?"

"I think you should let him tell you himself, don't you think? You gonna text him back or something?"

"Why would he ..." and Kurt left off, looking upset now again. "_Damn_! He made me promise, last time, that no matter what, I would always look at his texts (well, unless I was driving). I am such an idiot! I was still so upset with him, and I broke the promise I made! I think I just made it worse -"

"Kurt!" His son looked at him, halted by the sound of his father's tone of command. He was surprised to see a smile break out on his dad's face. "He's a smart guy, that Blaine is. Was this promise his idea?"

Kurt looked down, ashamed. "Yes, it was. He said the worst thing was being shut out. He told me last time that … that when I left when I got upset, it just made things so much worse."

"I gotta agree here. Do you want to talk to me about it, or do you want to just go ahead and keep your promise?"

"Dad, if you don't mind..." Kurt finally looked like he'd regained hope, and sounded a bit better.

"Not at all. Good luck." And he left, quietly shutting the door behind him.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit_! Kurt cursed as he went to retrieve his phone. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them to see the display: 2 missed calls, 1 voicemail message, 5 texts. Oh, God. He'd yelled at Blaine, ignored his attempts to contact him, and oh, God. He decided to look at the texts first.

**Kurt, please text me when you get home! I want to at least know you got home safe!**

**Please please … we need to talk. I am so sorry!**

**I just left you a message. Please do something, I don't know what to do.**

**Kurt, I'm so sorry I upset you! You mean everything to me! Please please call me, or at least text me.**

**I know you're mad at me, but this is so hard. I just want to work this out. Please!**

He felt worse with each text, picturing Blaine, knowing how desperate he got when he felt cut off. They'd learned last time that their different means of coping with conflict led to lots of mutual pain: Blaine couldn't bear to be away from him if he felt like they needed to talk, and Kurt did what he usually did when he was hurt, withdrawing until he felt like he could deal with it, which only made him feel worse later, knowing how much pain he'd caused. Setting his mouth in a line, knowing it would be painful somehow, he punched in the numbers to hear Blaine's voicemail. _"Kurt, please... pick up! … All right, well, maybe at least text me or something … Kurt, I'm so sorry! Please, please – we need to work this out! … okay, I'll just wait."_ He was right, he felt so much worse. Why did I do that? He'd hurt Blaine way more than was reasonable; he had to admit Blaine was only trying in his own way to do what he thought he had to do.

Kurt hustled to the bathroom; appalled at his appearance, _fuck it!_ He decided it didn't matter; he couldn't fix it fast enough, and … it just didn't matter. He bounded down the stairs. "Dad? Can I go over to Blaine's?"

Burt stifled a smile._ Looking like that, kiddo? This guy must mean a hell of a lot, if you don't even care about that! _Keeping a level expression, he just said, "Go on. Just drive safe! Pay attention to the road! C'mere." And he gathered him in a tight, quick hug, and noticed his son's bright eyes and hopeful expression. "Did you call him yet?"

Kurt's face fell. "Uh, no, _shit_! Sorry, dad! I'll let him know..."

He allowed himself a chuckle. "You do that. Don't be too late, son!"

Kurt had already whipped out his phone, and texted, **Blaine, I am so sorry! I'm on my way. Please forgive me.**

* * *

Blaine was startled by the sound of a new text message. Reading it, the oppressive feeling he'd been suffering lifted, and he raced to the bathroom to try to clean up. Giving that up, seeing that his reddened eyes, face, and nose weren't going to look miraculously normal that fast, he checked the time. Five more minutes. He decided to make some more coffee, glad to have a short task to do, and hoping Kurt would be pleased.

He heard Kurt's Navigator pull into his driveway, and was outside before he even knew he'd opened the door, and Kurt was beside him, and in his arms. "Kurt, I'm so sorry … I never wanted to upset you like that -"

"No, no, I shouldn't have left, you were right! And I'm so sorry, I am such an idiot! I let you suffer, and didn't even look at the phone until dad talked to me! And I'd promised -"

He was stopped by Blaine's lips on his own, and he closed his eyes and sunk into the kiss, wondering what he could have found to be mad about. He pulled back as he felt Blaine's renewed sobs, and looked at his tear-stained face. "No, no, don't cry! Oh, god, I am so sorry, Blaine! I did the one thing you can't deal with – I left you alone in the middle of a fight!"

Somehow this made even more tears flow. _Shit. I am the worst boyfriend on the planet!_ Kurt fumed at himself. He was starting to get it, how Blaine's affectionate nature, coupled with a fear of abandonment, had made his boyfriend a wreck. He pulled him back in his arms, and murmured in his ear, "let's go inside; you're shivering out here." The temperature had plummeted a good twenty degrees since sunset, and it was indeed chilly.

Blaine nodded, not hazarding to speak yet, and let them both in. Kurt guided him over to the couch, where he just held Blaine and rocked him in his arms, until he finally relaxed. "You have no idea how much you mean to me, Blaine. I can't believe I did this, and even had to have you call my dad to remind me of my promise to you! I'm so sorry!"

"I … I just panicked. I want you here, even if you're mad at me, I can't stand having this just, hang out there, both of us upset! We can work this out, right?" Kurt's heart melted some more at the for-real puppy eyes Blaine was making at him, probably not even aware what he was doing or how appealing he looked as he did it. He gently closed the small gap between him, kissing each eye, then his nose (which was red and still kind of moist), and finally his lips in a light kiss.

"Yes, you are so worth it. I want you to know that. If I have to get out of my comfort zone, so be it. I'd like to say I'll never do this to you again, but I can be stupid sometimes, I make things bigger than they are, I withdraw, and I see it now, that that's the worst thing I can do to you. I'm so sorry!"

He was rewarded with a huge smile followed by a breath-depriving embrace from Blaine. "Me too."

Kurt decided to start with something more neutral. "You didn't get to tell me what happened in the locker room."

"I was going to, and then … you know" Blaine looked at him apologetically.

"I know. So, tell me now." Kurt's eyes were full of love as he gazed expectantly at Blaine, really wanting to know what had happened, and what had impressed Finn and his dad so much.

Blaine told him every detail, and Kurt laughed at how Bob was caught by his own words, in front of everyone, and that Coach Beiste was clearly not going to allow a repeat of that kind of bullying. "That is so freaking totally awesome! I am so proud of you!" And he looked it; Blaine looked at Kurt's eyes, which were shining and full of love, with a beautiful smile stretched across his whole face. He felt so loved and approved of, and happy that Kurt knew all about it now. He felt enough courage now to ask the question he'd been dreading.

"Can you please tell me exactly what I did wrong? I'm so sorry, and I think that's where we need to start, because," and he faltered a bit here, looking down at his feet, "I'm just not sure... I kind of lost the whole gist of things when you left..."

Kurt returned to feeling ashamed for hurting Blaine the way he had. He paused, but then he thought of it, and knew he knew what to say. Cupping Blaine's chin in his hand so he could look at him again, he started, "I worry about you, that's why. It's like, when it comes to me, you lose your head, and you could get really hurt trying to take on too much" he painfully flashed back to what he knew now about how Blaine would have gone after Rick and two other guys that day he'd gotten hurt, and was only stopped by the need to respond to Kurt's distress first. Or how he'd fought with Karofsky, who had then been joined by Azimio, and how terrified he'd been, seeing him being beaten to unconsciousness by two huge football players. "I think you're more, um, rational, if it's just you, but you aren't careful at all if it's me."

"But Kurt, that's not fair! I can't let them do that to you, you mean too much -"

"And you mean too much to me! Hear me out!" And Blaine stopped to listen. This is where they'd gotten to when Kurt had left in frustration. "I love it that you're my knight, I really do..._ in a way._ But, I'm not that fragile, Blaine. It's true, I'm not physical like you are, at least not usually, but did you ever stop to think that maybe it's a choice?"

Blaine was lost, here, and looked it. "How? What?"

"Non-violence. Passive resistance, like Martin Luther King, Jr., or Gandhi. They want a fight – I don't give them the satisfaction! This ends, you know. High school – despite what the song says, it _doesn't_ last forever! And in the adult world, you don't get to go around throwing slushies and doing locker slams, not without consequences! I fully plan to go to New York, and if someone pulls that crap on me, I'll do what any native New Yorker would do – sue the fucking pants off them!" Kurt smiled at Blaine as he explained his vision.

"Uh, okay... but, Kurt!"

"No, Blaine, meeting violence with violence isn't the way. And you going after those guys, even when you're out-numbered, it's something I can't just let you do. What if Finn hadn't come in when Azimio and Karofsky were all over you!" Blaine's heart sunk, it suddenly looked like Kurt was going to cry. He pulled him into a hug, and just held him. Kurt pulled away to continue. "Blaine, you know this; look what you did tonight in the locker room! I am so proud of you for that – you didn't take his crap, but you also didn't resort to fighting."

Blaine looked conflicted. "Kurt, okay, you've got a point. But what if I feel like I need to, you know, defend you, or us! It could happen, and passive resistance doesn't always work out either!"

Kurt drew his mouth into a straight line, considering for a moment. "How about we compromise? Try to use physical force only as a last resort, can you promise that to me?"

"Do I still get to be your knight?" Blaine's puppy eyes were back to their normal, jokey look.

"As long as I get to be Zelda, I think I can handle that." And the tension seemed to vanish, as they kissed as though getting to enjoy each other's tastes for the first time. When they finally pulled back for a moment, Kurt asked softly, "Mmm... do I smell coffee?"

**A/N: In case I confused you... last chapter, Kurt berated Blaine, telling him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't some damned Princess Peach, waiting for Mario to rescue her every time. So, who's this Zelda? Well, in the Legend of Zelda games, (also a Nintendo game series) the protagonist, Link, does indeed have to complete quests, and sometimes also saves Zelda. But Zelda is much more of a match for him in heroism and her abilities than Princess Peach ever is: sometimes wielding weapons, often using powerful magic, and helping Link substantially; in my son's words, she 'gets stuff done'. More importantly, Kurt and Blaine are learning how to fight fair, and deal with conflicts in a way that doesn't hurt them both so much.**

**Anyway, I'd love to know what you think; this chapter was exhausting to write!**

**Special thanks to: Selibow, who asked me to include 21 in the last chapter (I later learned why: because this is what age Ryan Murphys said Kurt would be when he got married) so thanks for having me include that bit of fun! BlurtitallOut, your comments and our conversations that follow help my thinking process, and make for a better story (so you all should be thanking her, really, just saying!). Alovestorytoldincupsofcoffee , I'm glad you found us (and you may note that this chapter ends with coffee); mariafbv, loquaciouslauryn, DancingintheRayne, msdarque, and Tristan: I hope now all is forgiven! Next up: Apple Festival!**


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: Writing this on a New Hampshire night, when it's not officially fall (it was Labor Day just minutes ago, here) but it sure feels like it. Our story is at about the end of September, in a period known as Indian Summer where the leaves are starting to turn beautiful colors, the sky is vivid blue, and the air is crisp. And, in Ohio, as is also true here in New Hampshire, it's harvest festival time, with apples, pumpkins starting to come in, and everyone enjoying the last few days when the weather can't decide which season it is. Enjoy! And, no, I don't own Glee or any songs, products, etc. mentioned here. I intend only to borrow, and promise to treat them nicely.**

**This chapter is dedicated to my dear husband, Alan**

"Kurt!" Burt had yelled upstairs yet again, and was now tired of it. "Finn, go tell Kurt we've gotta go in half an hour. I can't believe he slept this long!"

Finn nodded, and loped up the stairs. He shared Burt's confusion; Kurt didn't usually sleep this late, and besides, they were going to Apple Fest as a sort of family thing, and Blaine would be there! He would have bet anything Kurt would've been up long ago, showering, fussing with his hair, obsessing about his outfit. He knocked on the door, and hearing no answer cautiously opened it, and crept in.

The curtains were drawn, making the room dim, despite the bright sunlight. _Geez! _Finn thought to himself, _he's out cold!_ He frowned, and shook the shoulder facing up, as Kurt was sleeping on his side, head half buried in his pillow. "Kurt! C'mon, dude, you gotta get up! We're gonna go to Apple Fest, remember? Meet Blaine there? Hellooo!"

Kurt suddenly shifted, scowled at Finn, and squinted at his clock radio. "Damn! How did I sleep through my alarm! _Shit!_ How long did you say?"

"Uh, half an hour ..." Finn ventured, nervously.

"Not enough time! Aagh!" And looking frantically around his room, he seemed to change his mind. "Finn, can you make sure there's coffee?"

Finn smiled at his flustered, almost brother, as he hauled himself out of bed and headed towards the bathroom. "Dude! I'll make you one of those all-grain bagels you like, with the healthy whipped cream cheese, 'kay? You can eat in the car."

Kurt bopped his head out of the bathroom, comically, Finn thought. "I so owe you! Thank you!"

"No prob, dude; got your back. Though you could like, make cookies or something later... just saying!" and he headed off downstairs to let Burt know everything was under control.

"Is Kurt okay?" Burt asked him.

"Yeah, I think so; he just looked tired. He moved pretty fast once he saw the time, I'll give him that!"

Burt just smiled. Kurt's prep routine could be flexible, when it had to be. He had no doubt Kurt would obsess about if his hair was okay, or whine that he'd had to shortchange his beloved moisturizing routine or whatever, but in the end he'd manage. Maybe five minutes late, tops. "Go tell your mom to be ready too, ask if there's anything else that needs doing."

* * *

About twenty minutes later, Carole wandered by Kurt's room to check in with him. "Honey? You about ready?"

Kurt was all dressed, and his look indicated that he wasn't decided if he wanted to smile or scowl at his hair, and waved her in. "Just about! I might just wear a hat," he said, sighing, as he tried to flip part of his hair where it didn't seem to want to go.

"I must say, I'm impressed!" She beamed at him, taking in his carefully chosen outfit. "You manage to look elegant, and still good to go for Apple Fest. Nice!"

He eyed her outfit with approval. "You clean up pretty good yourself! No acid wash denim in sight," he grinned evilly, "and that oxblood jacket really pulls it all together." He stepped towards her to adjust her autumnal colored paisley scarf. "There. Perfect!"

She eyed it then, hanging up near his door. "That really is unbelievable. Finished?" she asked hopefully.

"Finished." He had gone back to fussing in front of the mirror, and reached for the newsboy cap to complete his look. "I had to sacrifice a little sleep, but it was worth it."

"I've got to agree, sweetie. We've gotta go; ready!"

Kurt smirked at his image in the mirror. He'd chosen this outfit the night before, and he really was happy with it. His hair? Well, he'd had to reconstitute quicker than that at school, post slushie attacks, so it worked well enough. With the hat, it was fine. He had no intention of being late to meet Blaine. "Ready enough. I hope to Gaga there's coffee!"

* * *

Burt had driven over Kurt's protests (they had taken the Navigator, the most comfortable car for the four of them for the hour-long drive), telling him he still looked sleepy and could nap if he wanted. Carole was up front with him, happily chatting. And they were going as a family. The wedding was still about two months away, but that didn't matter: it hadn't taken long for Kurt to learn to adore Carole, and Burt had bonded almost too fast for Kurt's liking with Finn. Burt had been right; in the back seat, Kurt had chewed on his bagel for a while, and had some coffee even, but still fell asleep as the countryside flashed by him. Awakened for the second time that day by Finn's gentle shove to his shoulder, he snapped to attention as Burt paid the parking attendant, and guided the Navigator towards the space in the field the attendant pointed out.

"Kiddo, find us a little later for lunch, all right?"

"No problem, dad. Later!" And Kurt was off, texting Blaine to find him, and smiling as he took in the festival atmosphere.

* * *

The large farmstand building had bins with probably a dozen types of apples (in case you didn't want to bother picking your own), and mums, pumpkins, and gourds on display. Kurt loved the colors and smells of autumn, and remembered with a pang how this kind of thing was exactly what his mother had loved too. Then he saw him, leaning against a display of corn stalks, and Blaine saw him too, and broke into a huge smile as he handed him a cup of hot, fresh cider. He thrilled as his fingers brushed his boyfriend's hand as he accepted it.

Blaine took in the sight before him: Kurt's skinny russet jeans, with chocolate brown leather boots, the most subtle pumpkin and caramel colored plaid shirt, with a fawn colored leather vest that accentuated his already dramatic body lines. The newsboy hat that completed it somehow made him adorable, and hot all at the same time. How did I get to have this runway model of a boyfriend? "Why is it you're the most beautiful thing here?" he sighed, wishing he could kiss him right there.

"I think my view is even better," Kurt whispered, brushing his lips on Blaine's ear.

"No fair!" Blaine growled.

"What's that?" Kurt flirted at his flustered boyfriend.

"You're gonna pay later," Blaine shook his head, and caressed Kurt's hand, softly stroking his palm just the way he knew would make him melt.

"Now look who's playing dirty!" Kurt shot back, withdrawing his hand as if burned. "Where's the Armani, Mr. Amazing?"

Blaine laughed. "I don't have to perform for three hours! I was thinking I'd enjoy the fair with my date first. Maybe some of what I want to do isn't, um, Armani-friendly."

"Whatever do you have in mind?" Kurt bantered back.

Blaine held up his orchard bag he'd been holding. "I'd say let's go wander in the orchard, pick some apples, find some hay..."

Kurt's eyes widened, then he batted Blaine's arm, "you do see we're surrounded by hicks, though, I can't say I don't appreciate the way your naughty mind works."

"C'mon! The best varieties are this way, I got the map and everything!"

Kurt smiled at his excitement; evidently his badboy loved hokey fairs, and finishing his yummy hot cider, he had to admit that he did too. "You are such a five year old!"

* * *

"Blaine! Are you sure the Macouns are up here? I don't think they're even ripe yet, are they?" Kurt wracked his brain, but was pretty sure they were one of the later developing varieties.

"Just up here! C'mon! I'll race you to the fencepost!" Blaine was carrying the nearly ½ bushel bag full of apples.

"It's on!" Kurt purred, and they took off. Kurt didn't get far up the hill before his ankle reminded him differently. "It's so not on, ow!"

"Kurt, I forgot about your ankle! Sorry! Are you okay?" Blaine had rejoined Kurt, where he sat on the grass by the side of the road.

"I'll be all right, I just don't think I should run up hill on it."

"Can you walk?" Blaine had stood up, and reached a hand down to pull Kurt up.

"Yes... but what's so important about the top of the hill?" he wondered aloud. Fortunately, they were almost there.

"Um, not Macouns. Sorry." There they were again, the puppy eyes. "We're almost there."

Cresting the hill, and now far away from the happy crowds of apple pickers, Kurt saw an enormous oak tree, with a huge tire swing. There were a few picnic tables nearby, and a pretty little white gazebo with a cafe table and fancy white chairs.

Kurt was interrupted from taking in the scene by a flirty Blaine, who had come from behind and wrapped himself around him, and was now nuzzling his neck affectionately. "Like it?"

Like what? Being away from the crowds with my gorgeous boyfriend? The idyllic view? Kurt loved everything he could think of about this moment. "Very much. Worth the climb." And he turned around to kiss his lips and hold him, with a kiss that deepened very quickly.

Blaine stepped away after a while, and led him over to the oversized swing. "You've got to try this. C'mon, climb in!"

Kurt giggled but did as he was told, and Blaine pushed him. He swung far out onto the gentle slope, and was rewarded with a beautiful view of the orchard and festival, and the miles of fields and trees that were beginning to show their autumn colors. They stayed that way a while, Kurt enjoying the swinging more than he thought he would, until Blaine led him over to the little gazebo.

Kurt smiled brightly, and in the golden light Blaine thought he really did look like an angel. Taking their seats, Blaine produced from his small backpack some bottled iced tea, "not as good as yours, I'm afraid," he commented as he passed one to Kurt, and a package of almond biscotti dipped in dark chocolate.

"I love those!" Kurt cooed, eagerly accepting his. "This place is perfect, Blaine. How did you know?"

His curly haired boyfriend looked off into the trees. "We would come here every fall when I was little. Cooper used to spin me on that swing in circles until I'd beg for mercy, and mom would always pack a little snack for up here. Why they have this nice area away from all the action down there, I don't know, but it's been here a long time." Looking back at Kurt, he added, "and I wanted to share it with you."

"This place, being here with you, makes me want to dream about the future." Kurt sighed, dreamily.

"Me too! Exactly." Reaching to cover Kurt's hands with his own, Blaine looked at him intently. "What do you see? What do you dream?"

_Do I dare to tell him?_ Kurt envisioned a life together, in New York, and eventually children, and a home full of love. "I want to go to New York."

"Uh huh. Tell me more," Blaine begged, in a sexy voice.

"Well, I want to be on Broadway, musicals of course..."

"Of course."

"Anything else?" Blaine looked at him hopefully.

"Well, none of that would be that great, if I was alone."

"I don't ever want you to be." Blaine leaned forward, and kissed him lightly, before asking, "Do you want to know my dreams?" Kurt nodded, eyes shining, so he smiled and went on. "I want to be in New York too. I want to work for marriage equality in all fifty states, so I could love you, and be with you, anywhere we might want to go. I want to work for justice, be a lawyer, just not like my father, obviously." Kurt's breath had hitched as he said this. "Kurt, I only want to do this with you. You are the love of my life, and anywhere you are, is where I want to be." And he pulled Kurt into a passionate embrace and kissed him, and felt his tears fall onto his face.

"I love you, so much, Blaine. I can't believe I found you! In Lima, of all places! I love you so much, it's scary, I just can't believe it; and I can't believe you love me too." Kurt's face was now pink, his eyes damp with happy tears.

"I don't know how it's possible I have you, what I could have done to deserve you." Blaine sounded almost reverent. "Because of you, I will always work to be the best I can be, to make you proud, and let you know every day that I love you."

Kurt couldn't believe it, and actually wondered if he were dreaming or awake. He felt his heart skipping, and felt like he could hardly contain his happiness. Then his phone buzzed with a new text. He flipped it open, with an apologetic look at Blaine. "They want us to join them for some late lunch. I don't want to leave here, ever!"

"Well, love, maybe we shouldn't make them come looking for us," Blaine winked at him, beaming, and just as giddy as Kurt. Kurt glowed at the pet name, and enfolded him in a passionate kiss once more, since they'd soon be back in the crowded festival. "I love you," he added, simply, deciding these were now his favorite words. He didn't care how sappy that was.

"I love you more."

"Really, Blaine? Too soon!"

"Awww, you sure about that? But I do!" He gave a cheesy smirk as he kissed Kurt's cheek.

"Not possible," Kurt dismissed him, trying to sound authoritative.

* * *

Lunch had been fun. Well, fun for most of them; Kurt had fussed over Burt's food selections to the point where the father had to peevishly remind the son who the dad was here, and Carole intervened, finding some selections that were a reasonable compromise. Blaine chuckled at how Kurt tried to run everything, which of course was hard to do in this setting.

The wind picked up as the sun started to sink a little. "Kurt, I'm first up, so I'm going to go find Wes and David and change and stuff."

"Wait! Where are you parked?"

Blaine pointed out the van, and Kurt was glad to see it wasn't far from his Navigator. "We've got to go to my car first. Come with me!"

Blaine was surprised, but Kurt took this opportunity to lead him by the hand. "This won't take long!" Kurt's excitement was unmistakable, and unfathomable as well to Blaine. They quickly reached the vehicle, and Kurt commanded him, "Just go to your van, and I'll meet you there. You change for the show there, right?"

Blaine had no idea what was on Kurt's mind; this wasn't the time or perfect place for getting physical, and he really did have to get ready now. He cursed the change in weather; Blaine hated the sensation of being cold, and the designer tux looked great but wasn't all that warm. Oh well, he decided, not like he wouldn't be able to change out of it fairly soon. He clambered into the van, changed, and emerged, fixing his bow tie. Kurt surprised him, coming from behind, and telling him, "I've got to fix this better, better take this off," and he removed the jacket, then reached out to fuss with the bow tie. "Okay, close your eyes, and keep them closed until I say!"

Blaine smiled and did it. He felt the delicious sensation of Kurt's hands on him, then felt the comfortable weight of a new garment being placed on him. "Now?"

"Almost... okay, now!" Kurt stood back to admire his work, as Blaine looked down at the gorgeous, finely patterned black vest, with subtle threads of silver and gold worked into the design in swooping swirls. The front had expensive-looking silvery buttons, and it fit him perfectly. He broke into a smile, feeling it on him – it was also so warm, with a pearl gray fine weight wool lining. "Kurt, this is amazing!" He wanted to take it off to look at it better, and looked up at Kurt, who was smiling, eyes damp with tears threatening to leak out, and looking at him expectantly. "You, you _made_ this!"

"Yes! I stayed up late to finish it! It fits you perfectly! You look great!"

Blaine had never been so touched by any gift. "I can't believe it. This is so amazing! _You_ are amazing. I love you so much!"

"I didn't want you to be cold, you know, while you were up there being Amazing."

Blaine groaned, as his phone buzzed with a text, then another, seconds later. "I can't wait to get you alone, babe."

Kurt laughed at the cheesiness of it. "I know, gotta go _be amazing_. I'll be right there with you."

And Blaine thought, and _that_ is amazing enough for me.

**A/N: Perhaps my fluffiest chapter ever, but dear ones, it may be a week before I update again, and I wanted to leave you with this (which I'd been planning for some time … many chapters ago Kurt began work on this vest, right after their _first_ fight; if you recall, or look back, the fabric is designer fabric from England, from Kaffe Fassett, and cost $60/yard. The orchard, with the swing as I describe it here, is based on a real place in New Hampshire; we go every year at least once. I'd love to hear from you! There's lot of meaty plot ahead, no worries.**

**Thanks again to all my reviewers, all of whom I've written to, as is my custom. All of you make this virtual place the friendly and wonderful place that it is. **

**BlurtItAllOut, you continue to inspire and challenge me, and make this a better fic, always! Loquaciouslauryn, Alovestorytoldincupsofcoffee , Claudia, Tristan, DancingintheRayne, and Sopphires, seeing your reviews is always so good!**

**Raise your glass!**


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N: Editing. This chapter was originally so much longer, but I hope it has benefited from a little extra time (and a huge amount of editing). Which is to say, the stuff I cut was fun in a way, but didn't advance the plot or really reveal all that much, and because of that, ran the risk of boring you, the readers. Other editing stuff: I do take your comments to heart, whether it helps in stylistic ways (for which I'm grateful), or in fulfilling a wish (21) or exploring something that you wanted to see more of. So, hope you enjoy, they're still at Apple Fest, a fun place to be.**

**I don't own Glee, or any songs you see here, etc. My original characters and story are mine, but I'm told they will work for fluff. Silly O.C.s; they have minds of their own.**

"And I want you to sit," Blaine said, guiding Kurt to a front row seat left of center, "here."

Kurt nodded, settling his bag at his feet, and spread out a blanket cover more places. Blaine, Wes, and David were setting up, and the lights snapped on, bathing the stage in bright light. Their movements were so coordinated, even when they weren't dancing or performing.

"So, this is what Blaine does for work, kiddo?" Burt joined Kurt, followed by Carole and Finn. "I've heard it's quite a show."

Kurt beamed at him, his eyes glued to the stage. "It definitely is, dad."

_My boy looks like he's in love_, Burt thought, and caught Carole's eyes as she smiled at him. Her eyes too flicked to the stage, to Kurt, and back to her fiance. He reached for her, and she melted into his side.

"Blaine used to sing with these guys at his old school, he told me about it," Finn informed his mom. "Magic's not usually my thing, but hey." He shrugged, good naturedly, and smiled at his mother. _She looks happy with him. And Kurt's really okay. So, this is what it feels like to go on a family outing._ He'd had a good life with his mother and his extended family, but this was a whole different thing. He was surprised at how, even though he was almost not a kid anymore, having someone who would be like a dad, and having someone to call a brother, made him so content. Watching his mom fuss over Burt, who rewarded her with smiles, hugs, and looks of utter appreciation (especially when she wasn't looking) didn't make him feel sad pangs anymore for the father he'd never gotten to know. _When I go to college or whatever, she won't be alone._ Looking at Kurt, he had to shake his head at some of their crazy history. There was a time when he wouldn't have believed he would ever have wanted to call him brother. True, he was not what he would have had in mind if he'd had any choice in the matter, and Kurt knew that as well as anyone. But Kurt was kind, and funny once he relaxed, and good with his mom. They shared other things too, not least of which was that they'd each lost a parent, and treasured what they had with the parent that remained. _Quirky, for sure, but he's cool._ Kurt happened to turn his head towards Finn at that moment, and they shared a silent nod. Like brothers.

Wes strode up to the front of the audience, and adjusted his mic near the edge of his chin. "Welcome to the start of tonight's Apple Fest show! Can you all hear me?" And he grinned confidently, as the audience clapped and few people made quiet cheering noises.

Christine Anderson and her sister Mimi, trailed by her tween daughters Fely and Amy, found seats a few rows back, with Mimi's husband Bill bringing up the rear. They'd seen Blaine perform quite a few times, but the girls never seemed to tire of their 'big kid cousin' and his show.

"All right, let's give it up for The Amazing Blaine!" David boomed out, and the curtain parted as Blaine emerged, and the music started.

"How you all doing tonight!" Blaine called out into the crowd, and winked right at Kurt. "All right! We've got a show to get started, so let's have fun, everybody!" The crowd brightened up at the enthusiasm radiating from the dapper young magician, and they watched as he nodded to his wing men, who busied themselves with setting up props, and he started to sing to the music.

I never believed in things that I couldn't see

I said, if I can't feel it, then how could it be?

No, no magic could happen to me –

_[David and Wes chimed in here]_

And then I saw you!

_[He returned to singing solo]_

I couldn't believe it, you took my heart

I couldn't retrieve it, said to myself

What's it all about? Now I know there can be no doubt

The volume climbed, as all three boys faced the audience, and pointed and danced for a bit in boy band fashion, and Kurt heard Blaine's cousins' infectious squeals at Wes and David's flirtatious glances directed at them, and they sung the chorus together –

You can do magic, you can have anything that you desire

Magic! And you know, you're the one who can put out the fire

_Blaine danced away, his eyes finding Kurt, as he directed his singing at him again_,

You know darn well, when you cast your spell

You will get your way

When you hypnotize with your eyes

A heart of stone can turn to clay …

They continued singing, setting up the stage with flourishes and getting the audience involved and curious as they caught glimpses of props.

Kurt felt like he could barely breathe. _Blaine loves me, he told me first, and he's singing right to me, in front of everyone!_ He couldn't help but admire the stagecraft of it all: setting up in front of the audience, while singing and flirting and dancing was so much better than just stepping out and getting to it. He was sure Rachel would approve. They finished the song, and bowed as one, and the audience, which had grown steadily, lured by the sound of their singing and the well engineered dance-and-set-up routine, cheered loudly. There were now only a few vacant seats.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" Blaine answered his audience, flashing them a megawatt grin. "Let's give it up for Apple Fest!" He let the applause die down before continuing. "I'm Blaine," the audience cheered a little bit, and he smiled and inclined his head acknowledging them, before opening his arms and pointing to his partners, "and this is Wes and David", they clapped politely, and "we've got some magic to do here tonight, ladies and gentlemen. Gentlemen, are we ready?"

Wes looked to David, nodded, and asked Blaine, "are you sure about this?"; he looked mildly worried.

"Absolutely! Audience, are you ready?" He egged them on, then laughed, looking back at Wes. "I think they're ready. Let's do it! All right, Wes and David are going to go meet some of you, and bring you on up here to help me out." Music from the Sorcerer's Apprentice accompanied the boys as they rounded up audience members, mostly school age kids, along with a few college girls, to the stage. When they had about a dozen participants, Wes and David herded them up onto the stage, as the music faded out.

"Excellent. Now, audience, what do you like to do with apples?" Blaine smiled and encouraged them to short out answers with a hand motion. He listened, and repeated back, "eat them? Of course! I think I heard someone say make pies! Yum … mom, I hope you're listening." And he found his mother and winked at her. "What else? Applesauce? Okay, that's good too. One more..." he cupped a hand to his ear and listened, nodded, then answered back, "cider! Okay, good answers. Now, my helpers," and he waved his arm, including all the kids and girls on the stage, I want you each to take an apple from the barrels over there." They did, with the younger kids putting more time into choosing. "All right, I need your help here... get in a line, and each of you, give your apple a kiss for good luck, put it in here," and Wes and David pointed to a cabinet with its door wide open, "and make a wish for what you'd like it to become." The college girls hung back, going last, flirting with the boys on stage. Wes and David herded the helpers off to the side, and indicated they should stay put.

"All right, I've got apples, I've got wishes, let's do some magic!" Blaine enthused. The music started again, to a song Kurt recognized from the first show he'd seen Blaine do. The boys faced the audience and sang out the first verse together,

Oh ho ho, it's magic, you know

Never believe it's not so!

It's magic, you know

Never believe it's not so!

David and Wes kept on singing, and Blaine turned his attention to rapping on the brightly painted cabinet, knocking, opening the door to show the apples still there, in neat little piles, then turning and putting his finger to his lips with a shushing sort of motion, rotating the cabinet a few times and crossing in front of it to join his partners, before they joined back with him, and knocked on the cabinet, rotated it again, and bowed at the end of the verse.

"You sure those poor apples aren't dizzy, Blaine?" Wes quipped, smirking at the figure in center stage.

"Wes, apples don't get dizzy, don't be silly."

"You sure they're okay? They did move around a lot," a worried looking David added.

Blaine shared a conspiratorial smile with the audience. "I'm sure they're fine. Audience? Do you think they're fine?" It didn't take much encouragement for them to answer back, mostly in the affirmative. "Time to see what we've got." He walked over to the littlest girl on the stage. "What's your name, honey?"

Kurt had a clear view of Blaine's face as he squatted before the little girl, who looked like she'd had fun at the fair – her long braid was messy, and her face bore traces of what was maybe candied apple, and her knees were grass stained. She got up, took Blaine's outstretched hand, and answered shyly, "Carrie."

"Well, Carrie, can you go look and see what's in there for me?"

"Will you go with me?" Quite a few members of the audience let out quiet 'aws' at this; she looked eager, but a little scared of being on stage.

"Sure! Let's go together." Blaine took her hand, and pointed to the door on the bottom shelf of the cabinet. "Okay, Carrie, open it!"

She reached out, and pulled open the cabinet. Wes timed the flourish of music just right, and she pulled out a small pie. "What's this?" Blaine asked, theatrically. "Is this what you wished for?"

"Yes, yes! I love pie!" The little girl jumped up and down, forgetting her shyness.

Blaine beamed at her, then let his assistants take over, showing the little girl back to her seat, and presenting her parents with the pie.

Blaine faced them all again. Kurt grinned, loving his showmanship, as Blaine seemed to somehow connect with everyone watching. "So, help me out here, how many wishes is it you usually get, you know, in the fairy tales?"

The audience shouted out, as he'd expected, mostly "three!"

"Well, then, I think our magic cabinet owes us a couple. Wes, David, you know what to do!"

Kurt and the rest of the audience watched as the second guest assistant, a group of three siblings, 'helped' Blaine, and were surprised with apple muffins, one each. Kurt loved seeing this new side of Blaine, how good he was with the children. When he talked to them individually, it was like they were the only ones there, and he never failed to hold their attention. Considering how young some of them were, it was pretty good that none of them cried or had meltdowns after the long day at the fair.

Burt watched Kurt, noticing how he was utterly lost in the show. He had to agree, this Blaine kid was full of surprises. He never would have guessed that the scary looking boy he'd met in the hospital moonlighted as a tuxedo-clad performer. He could see some of what Kurt was probably seeing: the warmth and kindness that seemed to radiate from the boy, along with confidence and a sense of fun. He tried not to worry about the future in that moment; he'd learned that making room in his heart for love meant being open to possible loss. He shook his head, decided that for today anyway he would enjoy the fact that his son was so happy, and that he approved of the object of his son's affections.

Blaine found Kurt's face as often as he could while doing his magic. He loved sharing his gifts with his audience, but had never enjoyed it as much as he did tonight. Seeing Kurt's face smiling back at him, he decided, was something he would never grow tired of.

The last of the magic cabinet's gifts, a small jug of cider, had gone home with a happy child.

The audience enjoyed the next song, and the juggling (which featured apples prominently, of course). Blaine used some of the kids still on the stage to help with this part of the act, and Carole noticed lots of flashes going off in the darkened space. Blaine was glad he only dropped one prop one time (an apple), as they got ready for the finale.

Wes and David parted the curtains, and set up the target at the back of the stage. With the help of their remaining volunteers, they arranged big red, yellow, and green apple-shaped balloons in on the target, then gave each volunteer an apple and an apple cider doughnut, as the stage cleared of extra people.

"Are you sure about this, Blaine? This could be dangerous!"

Kurt smirked, remembering the schtick from last time, watching as Wes wrung his hands, nodding 'no' at Blaine.

"It's fine," Blaine laughed, walking over to a wooden apple basket on the side. "We can't disappoint the good people here at Apple Fest, now can we?"

"But last time –" David blurted out...

"That was last time," Blaine assured him, winking at the audience. "The insurance people said it was all fine."

"All right then." Wes' tone was all business. "Ladies and gentlemen, these apple balloons are no illusion. And neither are these knives. Silence, please, as The Amazing Blaine prepares to astonish you with his feats of knife-throwing … which usually do not end in disaster." He chuckled at the end of his speech.

Blaine turned to his audience. "This is the sixteenth annual Apple Fest, and we have here sixteen balloons, one for each year. Let's hear it for Apple Fest!" The audience cheered politely. "Each balloon has a number written on it, and I don't know which is which. Remember that for later."

David and Wes came forward, making a show of flanking Blaine as he stripped himself first of his jacket, then loosened his bow tie, and took it off. Blaine was immediately grateful again for Kurt's gift; a light breeze played through the stage, and by now his audience was mostly wearing sweatshirts and jackets; the temperature had dropped quickly with nightfall. He was still warm, thanks in part to the activity, but also due to the stylish (and comfortable) vest.

Carole beamed at Kurt as Blaine prepared on stage. She'd heard him working late into the night, and knew he was proud his boyfriend was wearing the beautiful garment on stage, which glinted subtly in the light, and looked as fine on the young magician as the designer jacket that had been covering it.

Blaine turned to the audience, "okay, count with me!" One by one, the apple balloons popped, until there was just one left. Kurt guessed he knew what would be next.

"David, Wes, can you get an audience member to check what the last numbered apple balloon is?"

The boys nodded to each other, and went straight for Blaine's little cousins, who clapped and squealed in delight. "I think we have two independent sources, right here," Wes informed Blaine, as they got back on stage. Blaine smiled at the little girls, as they followed his assistants to examine the last apple balloon. Fely leaned close to Wes' mic and her clear voice rang out, "yep! It's number 16!" The crowd clapped politely, as the boys made a show of escorting the girls off the stage, out of danger.

"Wes, David! The blindfold, please!" Blaine's voice rang out.

"No, Blaine, I don't think..."

"Audience!" Blaine interrupted Wes. "Do you want me to use the blindfold?" And there was that grin again. They shouted back, variations on yes, and Blaine turned to his assistants. "The people have spoken." And he faced the audience, closed his eyes, and David and Wes secured the bright red blindfold. David shook his head at Wes, who motioned to him 'go on', and he turned Blaine around a couple of times, and led him to a spot facing the target. David handed him the last knife. Blaine stretched his arms, waved his hands a bit, then made a show of aiming the knife. The audience was completely still as they watched. Blaine smiled, and waited, then quickly plunged the knife towards the target, where the last balloon popped with a quiet pop.

The audience was on its feet, and cheered, encouraged by Wes and David, and Blaine removed the blindfold and accepted their applause.

"Thank you, thank you all so much! You've been a lovely audience!" And he bowed, motioned to the boys on stage to bow too, and they started to sing their finale song from Xanadu while they cleared the stage for the next performers.

Finn decided not to tell his mom and Burt that he'd seen Blaine throw a knife before, in a totally different setting. He could appreciate now what that had been for what it was: showmanship. He smiled at Kurt, wondering if he was thinking of the first day of that school year too. _Dude's really accurate,_ he had to admit.

**A/N: The first song is special to me and my dear husband, You Can Do Magic, by America; check it out if it's new to you! The second song mentioned showed up in Blaine's first magic show and reappears here, from the Broadway musical The Magic Show, featuring Doug Henning. This was the edited version … but it also seems like a nice stopping place. Our day at Apple Fest (night now) is almost done. I hope you've enjoyed it, and you know I'd love to hear from you – whether it's a comment that helps make this fic a better place for everyone to visit, or just something you really liked in particular, or a question you've got, that I can answer either just for you, or address in a future chapter; any and all of these, I love to hear from you!**

**Special shoutouts are in order: _GleekOutKlaine_, your writing comments are very welcome here, and duly noted. _BlurtItAllOut_, as always your comments and analysis make my day; I'm glad you're with me on one possible vision of Blaine's future. Many of you also take the time to encourage me, and your comments make my heart soar, knowing that my story gave you pleasure, and that you're looking forward to more – you're so welcome, and your comments, even when they're short and sweet, mean so much to me: yes, I'm looking at you, _Claudia, Tristan, I'mJustDefyingGravityX3, msdarque, OrangeCoyote, Sopphires, alovestorytoldincupsofcoffee , Selibow, Shorty, Maggie,SheShaPotterGleek and DancingintheRayne_. More soon! **


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N: Apple Fest is almost over, but the story's far from done... and here we are at chapter 40! This really is thanks in part to you, and especially the reviewers: you really do motivate me to write more, instead of being lured away by the thousand distractions, diversions, and tasks of my life. Almost season 4 – wow!**

**I do not own Glee, etc.**

_This chapter is dedicated to BlurtItAllOut, who I am happy to call friend_

"Dad, I want to see if I can lend a hand backstage -"

"Go on, kiddo," Burt smiled at his son's retreating form. "You were right, Carole, that boy's something!"

"I'm thinking Kurt won't be riding home with us," she laughed, like Burt, so glad to see Kurt so excited and happy.

"Mom, I'm gonna go check out the arcades and stuff," Finn had a hand on his mother's shoulder.

She pulled him down for a quick peck on his cheek. "Okay. We'll find you later, sweetie."

* * *

Blaine felt himself get tackled from behind and chuckled, knowing exactly whose body felt just that way against his. He twisted around, and crushed Kurt into his arms, murmuring into his ear, "Well, hello love."

Kurt melted. Would he ever tire of the many ways Blaine would tell him he loved him? "You stole my line... you really are amazing. I can't believe you're mine." Kurt stepped back a bit, and watched as Blaine flushed, somehow becoming even more adorable.

"Now look who's stealing lines. I'm yours," and he whispered throatily right into Kurt's ear, "_all_ of me."

"Cheeseball." Kurt swatted him on the arm.

"You love it."

"Fine. I do. And I love you."

Blaine looked at Kurt, and wondered if Kurt had paid attention to the sequence of what he'd just said; he wondered how he'd had the presence of mind himself to note it. _Slow down_, he cautioned himself, not wanting to do that at all; the dizzying thought of someday Kurt being his, forever, and hearing I love you and I do, in another setting, practically made him dizzy. _Kurt doesn't have to know what I'm thinking right now,_ he told himself. He looked down for a moment, then met Kurt's eyes, shining bright blue in the overflow of the stage lights. "Thank you again for the vest; I would have been shivering by now without it. And it felt so incredible, to be warmed by something you made for me."

Kurt was entranced by Blaine's serious expression of a moment before, followed by this expression of thanks. He smiled softly back. "Vests aren't terribly hard to make. I think the model wearing it really rocked the look, though."

"Really? We'll have to have my stylist hire the designer responsible for it." He placed a light kiss on Kurt's hair. "But, I'm going to change back. Would my beautiful boyfriend like to check out the fair at night?"

"Um hmm."

Wes and David returned from carrying props and the cabinet back to Blaine's van. "One more trip should do it," Wes announced. "Hey, Kurt, how you doing?"

"Hi Wes, David. That was a great show!" Kurt gushed. "I think you Warblers should dance more, but don't let Rachel know I told you that."

"Of course not. But we'll take your comment to the Council," David answered. "Good thing we don't meet up until Regionals. Gives us some time to work on our moves." David thought back to their new Warbler, Sebastian, who was always lobbying for more movement and dancing, and seemed more than eager to teach. "You're not afraid of the competition?"

Kurt mock frowned. "Well, we did get Blaine from you, so I'd say that helps even things up a bit. So, bring it, blazer boys!"

"Oh, consider it brought," Wes shot back. "Blaine, you gonna feed your hungry minions?"

* * *

They ran into Finn a little later, scouring the food tents with Puck and Lauren. "Dudes! That show was awesome!" Finn greeted them.

"Thanks, glad you liked it," Blaine answered for the group. "So, what looks good here?"

"Well, my lady here, for starters," Puck waggled his eyebrows at Lauren.

"You know I do," she crooned back, pushing him away when he reached in for her. "No, seriously, those sausage and pepper subs are great, get in line, Puckerman." He dutifully tromped away, with a lovesick backwards glance. She smirked at him, smiling indulgently. "He's great, once his priorities are straightened out for him." Then she followed after him.

The Warblers waited until they were gone before breaking out into giggles.

* * *

Some time later, Blaine and Kurt were alone again. Kurt had found a stall with fabulous Greek food, and Blaine had found some new foods to love. Finn was hanging out with Puck and Lauren, and Wes and David had departed back to Dalton. Kurt sent a quick text to his dad, and waited for his response, which came after only a minute or so. **OK, be back by midnight, love dad**. Kurt chuckled, showing Blaine the message. "Wow, all I need is a glass slipper to lose. Could this day be any more magical?"

"So, I _do_ get to be the prince, with no complaint this time? Awesome!"

Blaine loved the way Kurt's peal of laughter, so musical and clear, rang out. "You really are such a five year old," he managed, once he could stop himself.

"Five and a half, I thought we'd worked that out already," Blaine whined, with a puppy dog pout. "I get to pick dessert."

"What exactly did you have in mind?" Kurt furrowed his brow, positive that he wasn't going to eat the greasy-but-delicious funnel cakes that had made him break out last time he'd had them. _Hell to the no!_ He could just picutre 'Cedes backing him up on this.

"Something as sweet, and as beautiful," and Blaine's voice suddenly dropped lower, as he continued in a growl, "and almost as irresistible as you are." And he pointed to the candy apples.

"Should I be afraid of letting you have that much sugar?" Kurt managed to tease back, but he felt almost breathless from what Blaine had just said.

"I can't behave when I'm with you," Blaine sang back.

_And good luck to me, trying to resist you,_ Kurt thought. "Lead on."

* * *

Blaine was having a hard time concentrating; he'd mowed the lawn this morning, and faced his formidable pile of classwork. He'd gotten Kurt home with moments to spare, and then they'd texted back and forth for over an hour after he'd gotten home, and he still had not wanted the day to end. He hadn't even minded the mowing; the mundane task let him relive the happy memories of the day that was very fresh in his mind. He'd almost been surprised when it was all done. His science and math homework had been reasonably distracting, and he'd made good progress there. But his English assignment led too easily to thoughts of Kurt, and rebelling against the idea of getting anything more done. Sure, they'd texted a couple of times today, but it was almost three in the afternoon – surely that was too long. He smiled, it was all right; _this is what being in love is_, and knowing that Kurt loved him back made him want Kurt so badly; he wanted the reassurance that he hadn't just dreamed it all, and he wanted Kurt's lips, and hands, and oh God...

"Mom! Can I go have a study break with Kurt?"

Christine grinned at the laundry she was loading. She was mildly surprised he'd lasted this long. When he came back practically glowing from dropping Kurt off last night she guessed their date had gone really well. "All right, sweetie. How's the homework going?"

Blaine chewed his lower lip before joining his mother in the laundry room and answering. "Well, I do still have quite a bit, but I just really need -"

"To go see Kurt. I know. Go. But, leave enough time, all right? You need to sleep, too, honey. Maybe Kurt can bring his things here and you could finish up together?"

Blaine grinned and hugged her. "You're the best mom ever."

She laughed, loving to see him so happy. "Go get him. Be back for dinner."

Blaine raced up to his room, and sent a quick text. **Lima Bean? My treat?**

_**Oh, gaga, I thought you'd never ask. I can't look at my homework anymore!**_

**I'll pick you up in 20 minutes. Love you!**

Kurt smiled at his phone, before firing back, _**Love you too. So much.**_

* * *

Monday morning. Blaine decided he didn't regret anything about this weekend, even if it did leave him sleep deprived. He was going to have to figure out how to manage doing his coursework and spend time with Kurt. Their coffee date had been wonderful, better than ever, really; even though they couldn't be physically affectionate in that setting, they could still be lost in the moment and each other, and they had been, until a text from his mom reminded them to come eat. Studying after? Well, they _had_ tried. Even in the living room, they'd had a hard time concentrating (both of them lying when they said their 'study session' had been fruitful). And they'd both had actual work to face once they said their good nights. He'd experienced sleep deprivation enough at Dalton, and knew he could manage.

"Hey, you" he greeted Kurt, who somehow looked amazing, meticulously dressed, hair perfect as always. And in those tight grey jeans. _Fine, I'll pay attention to class another day!_

"Hey yourself. Back in uniform, I see?" Kurt teased. "Did your stylist turn into a mouse when the coach and four turned into a pumpkin?"

Blaine fingered one of the chains dripping off his black jeans. "Maybe my stylist is … versatile?"

Kurt wouldn't admit it to Blaine, but he did like this look. He missed the softer curls Blaine wore on weekends; Blaine's hair was back to being fiercely gelled along with the leather and black and chains. He whispered, "no knives, right?"

"No, love. None." Blaine whispered back, tickling his ear and thrilling him to his toes with his soft, flirty tone.

"Hey, fairies! So, you hang around in twos now!" Rick the Stick jeered, looking to his buddies on either side, who congratulated him on his wit, fist bumping as they laughed.

"Ignore them," Kurt chanted at Blaine. "I see you're as full of wit as ever. Good morning to you too." Kurt directed at the jocks.

"Brave, much?" Rick was suddenly toe to toe with Kurt. "Good to know you still have some balls, girly boy."

"You do seem obsessed with Kurt's balls, Stick Boy," Blaine growled. "So, tell me, why is a supposedly straight guy that obsessed with my boyfriend's balls?"

Rick backed up a step, the redheaded boy flushing angrily. "Shut up! Just shut the fuck up, juvie!" Heads turned in their direction all up and down the hallway, attracting the attention of everyone in hearing distance. "Keep your damn fairy dust away from me, or I am so gonna kick your ass!"

Blaine now invaded Rick's space, and answered quietly in a tone toned deadly, "Afraid of catching the gay much, asshole?"

"Just – just shut up! Goddamn fags, I'd kick your asses but I don't want to be late for class. Let's get out of here." Rick shot a sneer at him, and he and his friends crashed shoulders with Blaine as they passed him going the other way. A classroom's length away, Karofsky had witnessed the entire incident.

**A/N: Ah, reviewers, you are powerful … I hadn't planned on writing tonight, I'm about to get ready to go to work, but as you can see, I did; that's how much you encourage me :-) Thank you to new reviewers : RoseCriss, I wouldn't want you to run out of story; Dumb Human Like you, welcome aboard, I love meeting my readers; My Kid Sings Glee, welcome to you too. Msdarque, DancingIntheRayne, Selibow, Sopphires, Tristan, Shorty, I'mJustDefyingGravityX3 – I am always happy to hear your thoughts, and humbled to receive your encouragement. BlurtItAllOut, I hope you enjoyed this chapter – your analysis is always great to read, and because I knew you, I have been changed for good (so has this story).**

**And now off to work. As for our characters, well, Apple Fest is over, and real life is reaserting itself...**


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N: Still don't own Glee, though I am happy I got an unexpected night off from work – I got to go see Caravan of Thieves (remember the song "I Can't Behave" that Blaine sang to Kurt? – theirs!) with my dear spouse, two of my kids (they loved the show too) and some dear friends. Anyway, happy to be able to write a day earlier than I'd thought. I don't own Glee, etc. **

_This chapter is for loquaciouslauryn; may your school assignments be as fun as Mr. Schue's, and may you be as focused as Rachel in doing them_

Mr. Schue strode into the choir room, as usual almost the last one in. He opened his mouth, looking ready to speak, when Rachel blurted out, "Mr. Schue, I know you're about to put this week's assignment on the board, but I must say, we need to get serious about Sectionals -"

"I couldn't agree more," he smiled back at her. "So, that's why, this week's homework assignment," and he wrote 'Folk Songs' in big letters on the white board … and was cut off from bothering to finish the sentence by the loud protests suddenly bursting from New Directions.

"No. That is _not_ an assignment, that is a punishment," Mike stated evenly.

"Hell to the no, Mr. Schue, this isn't third grade," he didn't have to bother turning around to identify that complaint.

"That's it, I am _out_ of here – let me know when we're going to do some decent -"

"Enough!" Mr. Schue turned around, marker still in hand, and glared at Puck. "All of you, you need to listen more before you jump to conclusions. Look, I know what you're thinking, but give it a try. Oh, and read this. Out loud, please," and he handed Rachel an envelope.

She took it, and frowned, before announcing in an excited voice, "It's from the Ohio Show Choir Board of Directors. Looks important." Unfolding the letter within, she read the relevant paragraph, which her choir director had highlighted. "We are excited to announce a new rubric into how competition scores are derived: 25% of the total available points will come from documentation of performances by each show choir for public education and/or service. Suggested strategies include selections that include a public education component. The maximum number of hours spent in performance to meet this requirement is ten, and each show choir must be able to document a minimum of five hours, due with their application." She looked up. "Mr. Schue, what does this really mean?"

"Well, budget cuts have hit some school districts really hard; some primary and middle schools have hardly any music enrichment at all. This was discussed at the directors' meeting this summer. Your homework assignment will help us earn every single one of those points, I'm sure of it!" Looking at the Glee club members' faces, he decided it wasn't so obvious to them after all. Most of them, anyway. "This is a good time for me to get a little help from my captains for this assignment – _bring it_, Tina and Artie."

Rachel's frown returned. She hated losing as captain for anything, but she settled back in her chair, arms crossed across her chest, as Tina walked to the front of the classroom, and Artie positioned himself by her side. "We got this," he grinned confidently. "Y'all, this is gonna be so cool! No, really, hear me out," Artie smiled, and the Glee club relaxed a little. "Folk songs can be really neat, and they're a part of our history. The teachers love this."

"What? How do you know that?" Kurt asked, in a skeptical tone.

"Easy. I asked them what they thought of our proposal. And they'd love to have us perform for the grades where they highlight American history; they're going to build it into their lesson plans, even." Everyone listened respectfully, Tina had taken charge, and clearly they had a plan. "We'll sing some cool songs, get all the points allowable, and maybe even have some fun." She beamed enthusiastically. Everyone seemed a little readier to at least try, and Mike gazed at her with love, so proud of how far she'd come, now able to fearlessly express her opinions and sell her plans with confidence.

"Mr. Schue, why Artie and Tina?" Quinn asked, curious.

He smiled at them all, and held up a colorful clutch of file folders. "When you signed up, remember how there was a questionnaire, so I could get to know your musical tastes and experience." Puck snorted. He sure as hell didn't remember what the hell he was going on about. Mr. Schue fixed him with a mini glare before going on, "well, some of you listed folk songs under music you'd loved as children, and Artie and Tina even gave examples. When I asked them, it only confirmed what I had right here," he pointed at the folders, "and they are up for the challenge."

"All right, y'all, so, here's how it's gonna go; we're going to have some solos, a few duets, group numbers; so that we'll have a program we can do with the schools to fulfill the requirement. It's not so hard," Artie reached for some music in the pocket of his chair.

"Fine. But I am not singing any damn kumbiyah shit!"

"Language, Puck!" Mr. Schue growled.

Tina grinned at Artie. "Should we tell him?"

"Dayum, woman, what are you waiting for?" Artie teased back.

"Puck, you and Sam are going to do The Ballad of Jesse James, and Sam will harmonize with you on that," Tina handed him the music. "It's traditional to do it on guitar."

"Wait! I think I actually know this, a little! He was a badass, but like, a good guy too. All right, maybe this won't totally suck." Sam and Puck were already pulling off to the side to look at their music.

Rachel fretted; she'd never paid much attention to folk music, and knew it was a musical blind spot for her. "Do you have an idea for me?"

Tina handed her sheet music, and added, "it's a duet too; Artie decided Finn would be good on this with you."

* * *

"Well, I wouldn't have believed that would go all right," Kurt nodded his head, leaving the choir room with Blaine.

"Well, Artie and Tina do seem like good leaders for this project, I mean, they even had song lists and everything," Blaine reasoned.

"You're new in town," Kurt deadpanned, "so I forgive you for having no idea. Ms. Berry doesn't like to admit anyone's more capable to lead than she is, so that is a minor miracle. And Tina? Well, she had a stutter or something the whole first year, and look at her now! Oh, and" he dropped his voice to a near whisper, "she and Artie used to go out, and it's kind of amazing that everyone's good with it now."

Blaine laughed, "ah yes, the _entanglements_ you tried explaining to me... which I'm still fuzzy on," he held up his hands to stop Kurt, "and don't need to know now either."

"They did find the perfect song for Puck, and he'll kill it, singing with Sam. I mean, an outlaw song for Puck? Brilliant!"

"And a Saucy Sailor song for me," Blaine purred, close to Kurt in the deserted hall. "I think I could grow to like folk songs a little."

"Yeah, she picked right for you, Blaine Warbler. Of course, I'm harmonizing _with_ you, not singing the girl's reply -"

"Yes, which I know you would have totally killed -"

"But it'll be fun all the same. See you after practice?"

"Meet you there." Blaine gazed at Kurt, with a look that revealed how much he wished he could hold him and give him a kiss before Kurt left to see Sue, like the other couples so casually did. "I'll be waiting for you."

* * *

Blaine's head was full of music, and thoughts of Kurt, so he was startled by the sight of Dave Karofsky, outside the workout room.

"Hey." The big football player looked like he wanted to say more, but he stepped back as Blaine's expression changed from happy obliviousness to anger and suspicion.

Blaine decided to say nothing; Karofsky didn't look like he wanted to fight, and Blaine wasn't looking for one either. He was surprised when Karofsky stepped back in front of him, blocking the door to the workout room.

"I … I just wanted to ask you something. I swear." Dave stammered out.

_Not what I expected_, Blaine mused, then decided on a simple approach. "All right. Ask."

Dave's eyes darted around, making sure they were still alone. "Ah, well, first, I wanted to say …" his eyes dropped, then he looked away from Blaine entirely, "I was only going to talk to Kurt. I didn't mean any harm."

Blaine stared back at him. _That _wasn't_ a question, right?_ He wondered. "I don't want you going and talking to my _boyfriend_ when he's all alone like that." He tried to keep his voice level, but it still managed to sound threatening; his control had slipped a little, thinking back to Friday night.

"I know." Dave's head was still hanging. Blaine had to admit, he actually did look sorry.

"You said you wanted to ask me something." Blaine stated, trying for a friendlier tone.

"I do." Dave looked at him directly now. "Sebastian … he got mad at me."

"Kurt kind of told me about that."

"Well, and now he won't talk to me or anything. I apologized, I mean, I see it now, I shouldn't have done that, but ..." his voice trailed off. Blaine looked at him, no longer a threatening presence, but now a frankly sad, sorry person.

"Why are you telling me this?" Blaine's tone was kinder now.

"Well, um, talking to him, it helped. You know," and his eyes darted around again, fear returning, "I don't have anyone to talk to, about, you know," and his voice dropped to a nearly soundless whisper, "being gay." Dave grew angry with himself, feeling his face turn red, and tears stinging his eyes. "I thought, maybe, if you could talk to one of the other guys from Dalton, maybe,"

Blaine interrupted him, "Sebastian would take your calls again or whatever?" Unbidden, memories of Kurt blocking him out after their first meltdown flooded him. He found himself sympathizing with Karofsky, who just nodded, grateful that Blaine understood.

"I'll talk to Wes. He'll listen to him, if anyone. To be honest, I hardly know Sebastian myself. But I'll do that right after practice; they're busy right now." He still knew the Warblers' schedule, and idly wondered for a moment if they were preparing their own set lists. "You're not anywhere close. To coming out, I mean." Blaine had purposefully kept his voice quiet.

"No. Not here." A panicked look came to Dave's face, as he pleaded with Blaine. "I just can't. Those guys … they'd make my life hell. And," he swallowed and looked like he really might cry this time, but his voice just became tight, "the only reason I might have had to do that here, it doesn't exist anymore."

Blaine nodded, understanding. In his own way, Dave Karofsky had started coming to terms with who he was, and who he was attracted to. Not that he'd expressed that in a healthy way at all, but the rejection, coupled with a successful rival, had no doubt made the closet all that much more attractive. And even Kurt didn't know of any other gay guys at McKinley; so Dave really was frustrated, and felt friendless, surrounded by guys who he was sure would persecute him if they knew.

"You're not alone. I think you should stay away from Kurt, though. I believe you, but he's not the one you should talk to -"

"I get it."

"Okay. But look, you can talk to me if you want, or at least we can have a truce. And I _will_ help you, like I said."

"Thanks."

"Take it easy." Blaine stepped into the workout room as Dave left. He smiled. _Kurt,_ he thought, _would be proud of this. And pretty much everyone in the Warblers listens when Wes talks._ His heart felt light, as he changed into his workout gear.

**A/N: Drop a stitch? Not this knitter of tales! Let me know what you think of developments here. I could tell you my theories on why the characters are doing what they are, but I think it's better to just tell the story. Clearly there's some unfinished business afoot.**

**And new business! I hope you like the new theme. The Ballad of Jesse James was something my father would play for us, strumming the guitar, when I was a child, and it really does have Puck written all over it. Rachel's song … oh, you'll see later; I think you'll like it. Saucy Sailor, which will feature Blaine, is a traditional song, easy to find on youtube I am sure, and in recent years done by the Wailin Jennys (really a nice version). In it, he flirts and sings to girls in a tavern, who at first reject him for his scruffy appearance, but by the time they change their minds, it's too late, and he saucily tells them it's their loss, essentially. Lovely for badboy Blaine, I think. I also think it's not too far-fetched a plot device: everyone would win (kids who need exposure to music and America's culture in music would get it, and the show choirs would get a chance to perform more, and stretch themselves musically. RIB, if you'd like to pillage this, it's okay by me ;-)**

**Dear reviewers, don't doubt for a moment that you are the rocket fuel that makes me choose this over quilting (I've got some great projects going) and other hobbies, or just vegging watching stuff. Knowing that you're enjoying it, and that you want more, is incredibly motivating.**

**So, shout outs are in order: _loquaciouslauryn,_ I hope you like this chapter – your stories have cheered me so many times (you are the queen of the sweet klaine oneshot). _Dumb Human Like You_, you've found this story later than some, and it tickled me to see your messages, and I pictured you staying up to read and catch up. How not to provide you with a next chapter? _Sopphires, BlurtItAllOut, msdarque, Mykidsingsglee, RoseCriss, Shorty, Tristan, DancingintheRayne, I'mJustDefyingGravityX3 _– all of you seem like old friends, making my in-box the friendliest place!**

**I should be updating again tomorrow, so see you then.**


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N: Standard disclaimer still applies. When I get ownership of Glee, I'll be happy to let you know, until then, happy to just borrow …**

"You look okay, well, better than okay really, so that means..." Kurt's eyes roved over Blaine, freshly showered, with damp curls (which he thought somehow looked adorable with his standard badboy McKinley look).

"That we had a highly civilized conversation." Blaine relieved the suspense, then beamed at Kurt, who tackled him in a tight hug.

"You got me worried on purpose!" Kurt mock-scolded him.

"Well, maybe just a tiny bit. But I was hoping for a different reaction, maybe later."

Puppy eyes. While clad in black and leather. With soft curls, _dammit_. In no-PDA-zone land. "You goof!"

"But you love me," Blaine purred in his ear.

"Yes. Behave yourself!" Kurt's bitch glare was unconvincing. He could feel the failed glare, gave it up and smiled instead, as Blaine giggled at him. "If you're capable of it," he added, with an attempt at a world-weary sigh. Really, he was more surprised than he let on. Karofsky had every reason to fear Blaine's reaction, and had apologized, admitted he was wrong. It tugged at his heart, how Dave had then asked for Blaine's help. He'd heard the fury in Sebastian's voice when he'd found him on Friday night, so it didn't surprise him too much that Sebastian hadn't forgiven Dave. He hoped Blaine wasn't overly optimistic about Wes' ability to help smooth things out. Despite all their history, old and new, Kurt did feel bad for Dave.

* * *

"I think we're getting there, people," Artie announced on Friday. He and Tina had listened to how everyone was progressing with their songs, and Mr. Schue was glad to sit back and watch them take charge. Artie, he thought, really did have it in him to be a great director. Tina was showing confidence and tact, keeping New Directions focused and encouraging people who needed it, and full of good ideas on how to conduct the in-school presentations. The program she and Artie had worked up took about an hour to do, and she'd worked with the elementary and middle school teachers they'd invited in to watch rehearsals. This was looking like one of the best homework assignments they'd had in a long time.

"Are you sure that last section is suitable?" Mr. Davis from the middle school questioned. It wasn't the first time he'd objected.

Artie shot Mercedes a glance that said 'I'll handle it' and he turned away from her to smile at the teacher. "I am. The purpose of this concert is to teach and entertain the students, and educate them about the folk song tradition in America. The spirituals section is an important part of that, and gives us a chance to talk about how those songs are interwoven into history."

"Church and state, young man?" the teacher's tone was condescending.

"This is history, sir. I looked; even the textbooks for the middle schoolers have a section on spirituals, and their importance in understanding black history." Mr. Schue was again impressed with Artie, who looked unruffled.

"Point made. I think we've had enough of questioning these students' choices. We should appreciate the gift they are going to be giving our kids." Everyone (except Mr. Davis) nodded in agreement at Mrs. Martin's comment.

"Good. It's settled, then. We'll see you at the performances." With that, Tina made sure to shake each guest's hand as she led them to the parking lot.

"'Cedes, you totally killed on Down to the River to Pray; I'm going to add it to my ipod right now, and that's saying something, since you know how often _I _pray," Kurt smirked; the answer was never. He didn't see that Blaine looked a little troubled at this, as he was sitting on Kurt's other side.

"Well, white boy, you know I did," she giggled, her mood brightening.

"I can't quite make out if that jerk was just racist or hated God..." Santana muttered.

"Why do you care? He's a jerk either way," Sam shot an annoyed look out the door.

"Well, if I had to go all Lima Heights, it's just nice to know what for, that's all." She smiled a beautiful smile that belied her not-so-innocent intentions.

Mr. Schue walked to the front of the class. "Everyone, I think we should give it up for Artie and Tina, who did a great job on every phase of this project." He gave the group a minute to congratulate them, then added, "I am so proud of both of you. I'm also proud of all of you, for supporting each other, and learning to appreciate new music. I've never been prouder of you, New Directions. Can we maybe run through Saucy Sailor, from the top?"

Blaine, Kurt, Tina, Britt, and Santana took their places, as Puck and Sam got their guitars, and Brad started the intro on the piano.

Blaine began singing, flirting at the girls, in character.

_ Come me own one, come ye fair one_

_ Come now unto me_

_ Could you fancy a poor sailor lad, who is just come from the sea?_

Tina smiled and sang back to him

_You are ragged, love, and you're dirty, love_

_ And your clothes smell much of tar_

_ So be gone, you saucy sailor lad_

_ So be gone, you Jack Tar!_

Blaine and Kurt sang back to the girls

_ If I am ragged, love, and I'm dirty, love_

_ And me clothes smell much of tar_

_ I have silver in me pockets, love_

_ And gold in great store._

The three girls sang back to them in harmony:

_ And then when she heard him say so_

_ On a bended knee she fell_

_ I will marry my dear Harry, for I love a sailor lad so well_

Blaine sang back, full of swagger, with anger sparking in his eyes

_Do you think that I am foolish love_

_ Do you think that I am mad?_

_ For to wed with a poor country girl, where no fortune is to be had?_

Kurt's voice joined to harmonize then;

_I will cross the briny ocean, I will whistle and sing_

_ And since you've refused the offer, love, some other girl will wear the ring_

The boys smiled as they went on, now looking at each other

_Oh I am frolicsome, I am easy, good tempered and free_

_ And I don't give a single pin me boys_

_ What the world thinks of me!_

The girls' oohing harmonies sounded ethereally as the boys finished the final verse. New Directions was on their feet, congratulating the singers.

"Wow! That really rocked, y'all! You totally nailed those harmonies," Artie smiled, beaming especially at Brittany, who'd had the hardest time learning them.

"I don't know how any sailor could resist _you_," Santana growled at Britt, who pinked prettily.

"All right, then, everyone, I think that's a wrap for today. Have a great weekend!" Mr. Schue dismissed them.

"You doing anything with the Cheerios for tonight's game?" Blaine asked, reaching for his bag.

"Nah, not every week, though I am doing part of the special half-time for homecoming. Missing the uniform much?" Kurt teased.

"I thought we agreed you weren't allowed to mention the uniform on school grounds," Blaine pleaded. It was bad enough that his boyfriend looked hot in all his fashions, but the way he looked in his Cheerios outfit was unbelievably distracting to Blaine, resulting in any number of inconveniently un-dapper thoughts...

"Earth to Blaine!" Kurt teased. _Gaga, it was almost unfair how easy it was to do that to Blaine sometimes. _"But I'll be there with dad and Carole to cheer you on, from the stands."

"Can we go for coffee after practice?" Blaine hoped Kurt didn't pick up the desperate tone that had crept into his voice.

"I thought you'd never ask," Kurt answered, then swept in for a quick peck on a surprised Blaine's lips. Their no-PDA-at-school agreement was a bit looser in the choir room, among their Glee friends, but Blaine's goofily happy expression showed he hadn't expected it. "Meet you when you're done. Rachel and I're going to look over sheet music, see what we've got that looks good for Sectionals."

* * *

Blaine almost walked into Dave Karofsky as he made his way to football practice. "Sorry! I don't usually almost walk into people..."

Dave smiled a small smile back at him. "We're cool. Hey, I didn't get to thank you."

"Things are okay now?"

"Yeah. I think 'Bastian was even madder at me than anyone here. We talked about it, and it's better now. I really appreciate it, though. I mean," and he did it again, looked around in fear before continuing to talk to Blaine, "I need someone to talk to. He can be dick at times, but he's really been the only person I've talked to who understands."

Blaine didn't know what to say, surprised a little that Dave had opened up that much. "Uh, good. I mean, I really will talk to you, if you need to talk right here some time. I mean, it's not like this all went easy for me either."

Dave nodded; he didn't know Blaine's story, and Blaine sure as hell didn't know his, but he wondered how much they might have in common after all. "Okay. Well, good luck at the game tonight."

"You going to go?"

"I don't think so. I can't sit with the team yet, which totally sucks! And I think it would kind of depress me."

"How much longer till you're back playing?"

"Three weeks. Agony." Blaine nodded, it looked like he really meant it.

"Well, so you'll be back in for homecoming, that's cool," Blaine offered, trying to find the bright side.

"Yeah. See ya, Anderson."

* * *

Santana sauntered up to Kurt. "You and Blaine're pretty hot on that song, Porcelain. You should sing together more often."

"Thanks, Santana. The girls sounded great too."

"He's good for you, you know." Kurt cocked his head at her, wondering where this was going. "I mean it. You like, _flirt_ with him, and drive him crazy, you tease! Who knew you had it in you," she smirked, as he blushed all the way to his clavicles. "But seriously, it's like before you weren't even aware of like, the fact that you're hot in those over the top fashions you wear. And now? I think you _get_ it, that you're fucking awesome, and it took our resident hot gay bad boy to show you what _I _knew all along." Her gaze became serious as she added, "and don't you ever forget it."

Kurt didn't know what to say, so he hugged her, and nodded his head disbelievingly. "I'll try not to."

"Kurt! We need to look over this music, chop chop!" Rachel's voice rang out. _How on earth does she project like that,_ he wondered?

"That is one loud hobbit," Santana muttered.

"You have no idea," Kurt sighed. "Coming!"

**A/N: Forgive the short chapter, please. I do recommend listening to Saucy Sailor, if you don't already know it; it's on You Tube, several versions. I happen to like the Wailin' Jennys' version a lot, but if this one were real I'd like it even more – I think this flirty folk song works well for Blaine and the other singers. **

**Thank you to all those reading and reviewing, you encourage me so much. I'm updating again tomorrow, so will do catch-up shout outs. First, sleep. Has to happen.**


	43. Chapter 43

**A/N: I don't own Glee, or any products or songs that might crop up here.**

_Dedicated to Sopphires, whose current story, The Scholarship, has me up creating headcanon. If you haven't found it, dear readers, I'd say check it out!_

"C'mon, Growly, pull up a chair. I think I might let you live," Sebastian quirked an eyebrow, and waited for Dave to settle himself opposite him.

Dave felt unsure where to go from here; he'd apologized, repeatedly. 'Bastian had been so angry with him that night he'd actually believed that if he'd wanted to kick his ass he would have managed to do it, out of pure fury (certainly not out of sheer muscle mass). Then, after he'd deposited him at his house and ordered him out of his car and sped away, he'd refused to acknowledge his many texts and messages, until Dave had begged Blaine to call Wes to see if he'd talk to him. He breathed, a deep breath, and smiled a little back at his smirking friend – he'd called him one of his nicknames, and he figured that was a good sign. It was probably obvious how much he wanted Sebastian's approval back.

"'Bastian, I am so -"

"No." Sebastian cut him off sharply. "Not again. I don't want to drown in your apologies, Bear Cub. Let's just be really brief here, and get it over with. Nod," he narrowed his eyes, waited for Dave to do as he commanded, "all right. Let's get this straight, so you know what exactly got me that mad. So that you never do it again."

Sebastian frowned at the anxious-looking boy. Wes had been reasonable, as always, and _damn him_, persuasive, again, _as always_. Wes had quickly surmised what the real problem was, and then basically ordered him to get back to talking to Dave, before something happened that they'd all regret; and there, he'd mercilessly pushed the sore spot he kept hidden, and he'd had to acknowledge that Wes was right.

"While I'm not proud of you for going all creeper on Kurt -"

"I wasn't! That's not what -"

"No interruptions." And then Seb paused, forcing Dave to summon some patience. "That's not what this is about." He leaned forward. Dave was surprised to see a face he hadn't seen yet: he suddenly looked younger, no smirk or sneer, no anything, but just an earnest expression on his handsome face as he looked straight at him. "You lied to me. You _cannot_ lie to me. Ever. I can forgive almost anything, and I'm not easily shocked, but you cannot lie to me. _That_ is what made me ignore your texts and calls. I'm disappointed, a little, in what you did, but that's not the main thing. I need to trust that when you talk to _me_, at least, it's the truth. I really don't care if it's ugly, or weird, or whatever. Just truth."

Sebastian's eyes were shining by the time he finished; Dave didn't think he'd blinked once, and he buried his face in his hands when Sebastian finished.

Sebastian had kind of missed Dave. This had surprised him – it didn't fit the image of the urbane, haughty prep school boy he cultivated. He'd started to make connections at Dalton, maybe even people he'd one day call friends, but before the blow-up at the game, anyway, he'd enjoyed his time with Dave. What started as damage control (and even he had to admit that the song, _his idea_, had potentially been far too much), had turned into something more. While he could never mend the horrible mess that had happened in Paris, and precipitated his abrupt move to Dalton, trying to help Dave felt like a kind of redemption. For all his appearance of disinterest and maybe even downright cruelty, it had been easy for him to understand Dave's torment and fear. And Dave had been so receptive to help.

But then he'd started to get glimpses of Dave as a person, and found that he was actually more interesting than most would have given him credit for. It was just then that Dave had deceived him; about his real motive for going to the game, and then in sneaking away from him to pursue Kurt, which he'd made Dave promise not to do. He'd been surprised by his own fury when he'd found him at that door; he remembered being so angry he was shaking, adrenaline coursing through him.

He reached across the table, and nudged Dave's hands away from his face. "Growly, c'mon. It's okay. I said I wanted to get this over with, and I totally meant it."

"I won't, I won't do it again. I swear it." Dave's voice was husky. This was different; he wasn't in trouble for his actions, really; he was in trouble for what he'd done to Sebastian's trust. "I need someone I can tell anything or everything to. And I need my friend back."

Sebastian's expression returned to its usual teasing appearance. He bobbed his head, and smiled a full smile now. The waitress approached their table just then, and gulped before addressing them. "Good evening. Can I get you fellows something to drink?"

She was proud of herself for being able to speak, and grateful for the rote, mechanical phrases that needed no brainpower to get out. That guy was like a movie star. Wow.

"I'll have a large French roast with a shot of Courvoisier, he'll have a large Coke."

"Ah, right, I'll bring those by in a minute..." and she hustled off. Now that she was away from the table, it occurred to her that she should have asked for ID, but the boy seemed so self assured, not at all like your usual underage kid trying to get away with it. She smiled to herself, t_hat was an interesting, and very grown-up, coffee order. Not what some kid would ask for._

* * *

"I can't believe it, we've already done three of these, and wow, why didn't we think of doing this before?" Tina was so excited at how well the school performances were going. She loved the little kids in the elementary school, and they really had been a great audience.

"Maybe because we didn't have a weird, time-consuming requirement from the show choir board?"

Tina swatted Puck's arm. "You're one to talk! Mr. star of the Q&A! You even let that little third grade girl touch your Mohawk!"

"I didn't know she was going to do that, c'mon." Puck groaned. "Who knew these little kids could be so grabby?"

"And who knew you could dress like this for a school day," Kurt purred at Blaine. Since they'd be spending most of today doing performances, they'd agreed to a uniform of sorts: semi-casual, in red, black, and white, McKinley's colors. Blaine was the darkest-dressed of the group, in fitted black dress pants and a black slim cut short sleeve shirt, with a red tie. The only touches of white were a corner peeking up out of his chest pocket, and white suspenders with a red stripe down the middle. "How do you manage to look like a bad boy even dressed up?"

"I can't disappoint my public," he flirted back.

"Oh, you didn't, trust me."

"Hey, you two, focus! We go back onstage in five minutes," Rachel reminded them.

_Why you would wear a perfectly nice black dress with a red sash, then accessorize it with white knee socks, I have no idea at all,_ Kurt pondered. "Who're we singing for next?"

"The seventh graders," Artie rolled by them, holding his clipboard. "Last one for today. Good work, guys, when we're done, that's a wrap for today, and we'll be halfway there. Oh, and yeah, Ms. Ricker will be sitting in – she's on the OSC Board."

"OSC?" Finn's face showed his confusion pretty plainly.

"Ohio Show Choir, Finn. Keep up." Rachel chirped at him. Seeing his hurt look, she softened, and reached up to hug her boyfriend. "Sorry, Finn."

His big smile back showed that he'd forgiven her almost before she got done apologizing. "Well, you know, maybe I should have guessed or something."

The first section, songs that traveled from England to America with the colonists, went very well. Artie and Tina were doing a great job co-hosting, and as usual the audience seemed to love Quinn's rendition of The Water is Wide, with Sugar and Lauren singing backup. Saucy Sailor then got the audience excited; they never failed to love the acting that went so naturally with that song. That section closed with everyone singing Scarborough Fair, which both the adults and the students seemed to appreciate.

"In this first section, we've concentrated on songs the English settlers brought over from England. But American history has some other dimensions. One of those is the slave experience, which later became the black American experience. I'd like to introduce you to Mercedes, to lead on Go Down, Moses."

"Thank you." Mercedes smiled at the children. "The slaves could relate to Moses and his story. How many of you here know about Moses?" She smiled, as most of the kids showed they had. "His story of leading his people out of slavery, with God's help, meant a lot to the slaves. It's ironic that the slave owners encouraged the slaves to sing spirituals like this one, especially if you listen to the lyrics." She nodded to Brad, who started the simple piano accompaniment. "I'm gonna teach you to sing along a bit, and you can get up to sing even better. We'll help you. When I raise my arms like this, join in."

When Israel was in Egypt land

(and all the New Directions joined her) Let my people go!

Oppressed so hard they could not stand

(they joined her again) Let my people go!

Artie then joined in with her

Go down, Moses, way down in Egypt land

Tell old pharoah, to let my people go!

They continued the song, and the seventh graders surprised their teachers by how most of them really enjoyed the give and take of the song. Ms. Ricker smiled, and made positive notes: these kids were taking the assignment seriously, and doing a good job engaging the audience, as well as giving some context to each song.

The audience clapped appreciatively, and Mercedes announced the next number. "Some spirituals just celebrated life and faith, and gave my people strength in a very hard time. This next song probably was sung by slaves, or shortly after the Civil War. Some say it's bluegrass, some say it's a spiritual; either way, it's a part of our history, and this song is still popular today. It's called Down to the River to Pray.

Joe stepped up to sing in unison beside Mercedes.

As I went down to the river to pray

Studying about that good ol' way

And who shall wear the starry crown

Oh Lord, show me the way

Mercedes beckoned, and all the female New Directions joined for the next verse

Oh sisters, let's go down

Let's go down, come on down

Oh sisters, let's go down

Down to the river to pray

All the New Directions joined in now for the main chorus, and the song washed over the audience, who listened quieter than would have expected. He was so proud of the Glee club: they sounded transcendent, and he wondered if maybe this piece should make it to their Sectionals set list. He caught sight of Ms. Ricker, and she smiled at him and gave a small wave.

The audience loved asking Mercedes about how she'd started to sing, and they had a guest teacher from the high school on the stage to answer history-related questions (and there were quite a few).

Tina announced the next section. "The Civil War hit America in a way never quite seen before or since, and some of the songs from that time are still with us. The emotions of this next song portray a young woman who begs to join her beloved."

Rachel joined her at the microphone. "Some say this song is way older than the Civil War, maybe in some way back to the English Civil War. Its theme is as timeless as war, for anyone having to see the one they love go off to fight. My name is Rachel, and I'll be singing this with Finn." Puck, Sam, and Mr. Schue started to play the guitar intro for them, as they stood at far sides of the stage.

Rachel started, in a quiet voice.

The cruel war is raging, Johnny has to fight

But I want to be with him, from morning till night

I want to be with him, it grieves my heart so

Won't you let me go with you

He answered

No, my love no.

Finn harmonized in the background on the next verse, answering her again alone at the end. Again, the audience of seventh graders was attentive, and Rachel looked about to cry by the end, as did the audience, when they finally came together on stage with the last line of the song, Finn softly singing to her,

Yes, my love, yes.

Puck was glad when the war songs section was done, excited to do his short section with Sam. Artie and Tina introduced him.

"Hello, everyone! Way before rappers were singing all 'gangsta' there were songs about outlaws. Whether it was Robin Hood or someone more modern, these bad guys with a good side are a part of our folk song history. This next song is about the outlaw, Jesse James."

Puck started on his own, perched on a stool alongside Sam, both playing their guitars.

Jesse James was a man, who killed many men

And robbed the Glendale train

And he took from the richer

And gave to the poorer

Kurt and Blaine stood close together back stage with the rest of the New Directions. "He really does rock that song," Blaine smiled, watching Puck get into it, soon joined by Sam's vocals.

"So does Sam," Kurt agreed. "I think they both relate, in a way." Kurt ran his finger along Blaine's exposed arm, and stifled a giggle as Blaine closed his eyes and tried not to react. "Any chance you'll be going for a change of dress code?"

"Really, Kurt? You do – that – to my arm and then ask me _that_? Someone here can't behave, and it's not me. No, the jacket, jeans, chains, still the uniform."

Kurt smirked, and stepped closer. They were surrounded only by New Directions members, who all knew they were going out. He grabbed Blaine by his tie and tugged it gently, and murmured in his ear, "then I'd better enjoy this while I can. Maybe over here," and he led him off to a corner, and surprised him with a kiss.

"Wanky," Santana purred, interrupting them seconds later. "I hate to break this up, but we're due on stage next. They might miss you out there..." she trailed off, and sauntered away.

"Why does everyone think _I'm_ the one who's a bad influence around here?" a clearly flustered Blaine managed to squeak out.

* * *

Rachel met Kurt at the choir room that Monday morning, bearing coffees for both Kurt and Blaine.

"I remember the last time you did this." Kurt smiled at her appreciatively. He took a sip of his beloved nonfat grande mocha and smiled at her.

"How'd you know my coffee order?" A surprised, but pleased Blaine accepted his, with a happy smile. "What happened last time she did this?"

Rachel and Kurt shared a smile, joined by Finn, who had his own Lima Bean cup. "Well, you got slammed by Karofsky, and then a certain mystery man helped you up. Did I get that right?"

Blaine shared a fond look with Kurt. "Yes, you did. I'd say it made the slam worth it." Kurt's tone was light, but Blaine's face darkened like a thundercloud passing through.

"Not funny," Blaine murmured.

Sensing impending awkwardness, Finn jumped in. "Well, actually, this was _my_ idea today. And I paid for the coffees." Rachel looked up at him with a look of pride and adoration. _God, are we that goopy around other people? Do I want to know the answer to that?_ Kurt wondered.

"And we want you to know that we're ready to help you, in helping plan your dad and Carole's wedding," Rachel chirped happily. "So, I thought we could see if New Directions can do a song or two for you. Of course, if it ended up being a go for Sectionals too, that wouldn't be a bad thing..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Rachel!" Kurt grinned at her, needing to stop her. "I love you, and your enthusiasm, but I have no idea how you're this hyper this early. But I do appreciate the coffee."

"Me too," Blaine added.

"How about we meet at lunch and go over some ideas," Kurt proposed. "You guys are the best, by the way, this coffee is so good right now."

Blaine smiled, sipping his medium drip. He admired Kurt's planning skills, and knew not to get in the way. He did hope to bring some moderation to the plans; Kurt wouldn't be inclined to, and he probably could manage to carry out his elaborate plans, but it would run him ragged, he was sure. _I've got a handful here,_ he smiled to himself. _I love this crazy force of nature, so much_. His fingers strayed to the chains decorating his jeans, clinking softly as he released them.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed their show, of which you got little bits here. The songs are all folk songs (or bluegrass, which I did kind of include with Down to the River to Pray, although that could go either way for me … not that I'm welcoming a music-classification-thread) and easy to find on youtube if you'd like to find renditions of them. I kind of liked Rachel and Finn's song, as it has echoes of canon, and I could also just see them singing it.**

**We now have a bit more insight into Dave's and Sebastian's friendship. There's definitely more there, but I wanted to show Sebastian making it clear exactly what had pissed him off, and that he wants to get past that.**

**And every now and then our hard-working characters need their coffee.**

**BlurtItAllOut, as always has some neat insights, if you haven't checked the reviews, I'd encourage you to. Lance brings out some interesting questions, and some thoughts on music. I don't want to give away the plot too much here, but we'll see some more klaine at the hudmels, you can be sure. Futurefic? Not decided yet (if not, it would be addressed in an epilogue – I love grownup klaine). I think some of you checked out Saucy Sailor, and found a new song to love. Now if only we can get Darren to sing it! Thanks go out to my faithful, friendly, and supportive reviews: DancingIntheRayne, I'mJustDefyingGravityX3, Sopphires, RoseCriss, loquaciouslauryn, DumbHumanLikeYou, Tristan, msdarque, Selibow, and Shorty. You all give me ideas, and your likes/dislikes definitely color my choices. Stay in touch, until we meet again (soon!).**


	44. Chapter 44

**A/N: Don't own Glee, or songs or products you might see here; this is written solely for fun. So, enjoy!**

_Dedicated to msdarque, a loyal reader who makes my in-box a friendly place_

"Finn, I'm going to ask you to do the honors … would you read this, please?" Mr. Schue handed Finn the envelope. He stood up, nervously opened the envelope, and smiled before reading to the Glee club:

_During these challenging times, many show choir competitors are facing hard choices financially. Board members have sat in on performances for the folk song theme (the public performance requirement outlined in the last letter) and have made a bold decision for this year's Sectionals: all show choirs are to perform folk/spiritual/traditional songs in the public domain for the competition. This will ease or erase sheet music costs, and enable the show to be produced as a video, the proceeds of which will be partly used to fund grants to help fund travel for the winners to go to Regionals. Details, registration deadlines, and rules for this year's Sectionals are found on the OSC website."_

"I think someone was impressed with your performance," Mr. Schue commented. "I've read the rules, so you can put your computer away," he said, addressing Rachel directly, "and listen up: we'll need to choose three to five songs, for a total performance time of twelve minutes. Project captains, what are your thoughts?" He smiled at Artie and Tina, who joined him at the front.

"Well, I think we can put it to a vote, to start with," Tina looked out as the group as she spoke. "We'll see what we get, then go from there."

"We're going to need to decide quickly, so we can submit our list to the Board," Artie added. "I looked at the rules already; if there's a duplicate submission, the Board will let us know, and then they'll make a ruling. We've got work to do, people!"

* * *

The week had been pretty good; it was a Thursday, so far no one had been slushied, and locker slams were becoming rarer. Finally, Principal Figgins had announced some new anti-bullying rules, with stricter guidelines, and the possibility of tougher consequences. Blaine smiled as he remembered his role in the slushie piece.

"Blaine, your argument is certainly compelling, but I cannot ban the sale of slushies on campus!" Figgins had stated, looking harassed. "Profits from the sale of slushies benefit all the teams and clubs, and all of them want more money than the budget is giving them."

Blaine pointed to the figures on the paper in front of him. "Did you even read this, sir? This is an estimate, from Mr. Wilson, the head of Environmental Services, of what it costs in time and cleaning products to clean up these messes, as well as his estimate of the cost impact of having to repaint the halls more frequently."

Sue Sylvester nodded her head; this kid was _good_. "Got anything more to add to this, Blaine?" She was curious what else he might come up with.

Standing up, and drawing himself to his full height, Blaine took a deep breath, his eyes meeting first Coach Sue's, then Figgins' and Mr. Schue's. "I think we need to reconsider it, as part of Coach Beiste's proposal regarding special consideration for infractions stemming from hate crimes."

Sue now smiled a full smile. _Porcelain, this White Knight in Black is a keeper!_ Shannon wasn't present at this meeting, but Blaine had taken his Civics project more seriously than anyone else ever had, making a formal presentation based on original research, requesting the banning of the sale of slushies at McKinley. He was also one of the few students who knew of the Coach's initiative to redefine hate crimes to include LGBT members (right now it was restricted to race, sex, and national origin).

Figgins looked at him in shock – shock that the student knew of that proposal to the School Board, shock at how well-spoken the request was. He remembered that Kurt Hummel was now not the only known gay student (the other was in front of him), and that both of them had experienced bullying for their sexual orientation. Mr. Schue looked with pride at the transfer student, his appearance at odds with his respectful but firm statement of what he believed was right. Coach Sue broke the silence.

"I think you should let him present at the next meeting, since the hate crimes guidelines are up for review."

Now Blaine was the one who was surprised, quirking a triangular eyebrow and smiling. He'd expected support from his Glee club teacher, but couldn't make up his mind about the Cheerios coach. "I would be happy to do that, sir."

Figgins nodded. "It's decided. Blaine, you may present your position to the Board at the Wednesday meeting; talk to Coach Beiste first, and have her approve of your presentation. As you know, she will be the main presentor. Your Civics teacher will want to attend, I believe, and you may have your parents attend as support, if you wish. Any objections?"

* * *

Then the day of the presentation had come; Blaine was surprised to hear from his mother that both his parents would be attending. The meeting would take place during school hours, so Blaine had had to dress for it when he went in that morning. Kurt had been excited about every phase of this project, and had tried to get permission from the Principal to attend, to no avail. He'd been happy to advise Blaine on what to wear (despite his boyfriend's objections that he could manage to dress himself), and left that morning in an outfit that was a subtle nod to his Warbler past: navy dress slacks, a crisp white fitted dress shirt with a red and blue striped tie, and a grey jacket. His mother informed him his father would take them out for lunch after. _Great! Now I can be nervous about _that_ instead of the presentation,_ he'd griped to Kurt, who'd shushed him and assured him he'd be great. Coach Beiste had been very appreciative of his participation, and had approved the outline of his speech without changing it.

He'd walked down the halls of McKinley, with his outline in his messenger bag, energized and preoccupied, on the way to the meeting, when Rick and the other stick jocks had met him with an exaggerated "Oh, I'm sorry … aww, and the little fairy even dressed up all nice and pretty today." Blaine felt the brain freeze from the slushies that hit from both sides, temporarily unable to speak as he shook his head, stunned by the cold.

Rachel and Mercedes ran over to him, hearing the jocks gloating as they passed in the hall. Blaine stood there, dripping and just opening his eyes, as Mercedes got in front of him. "Blaine! Oh, boo, I'm so sorry … we'll help you get cleaned up." And she guided him over to the bathroom, stopping when she felt him resist the movement. "Blaine?"

"I'm texting Kurt right now, I'm sure he'll have something you can change into -"

Blaine interrupted Rachel. "No."

Rachel and Mercedes both stopped, puzzled, as they looked at Blaine, whose shirt and jacket, not to mention his face and the front of his hair, were dripping red and blue. "I've got to go to this presentation; no time." They watched as his face hardened, and he looked at them, brows together in determination. "Just help me clean my face, and maybe fix my hair a little; I have an idea."

Kurt joined them as they were finishing trying to help him manage his hair, which had been challenging, due to the combination of gel and slushie. "Blaine, are you sure?"

He smiled at Kurt, and looking around and finding only him and the Glee club girls, gave him a quick kiss. "Could you dream up a better visual aid? I'm out of time. Wish me luck."

Kurt looked comically conflicted, Blaine remembered later, almost having hugged his still multi-colored, gooey torso; he'd settled for instead murmuring "I love you," to Blaine's ear, then returning a chaste kiss, and watched him go. Then Kurt and the girls saw it: one of the jocks had finished the job with a large hot pink sticky note, stuck to the back of Blaine's blazer, with one word on it in black, written with a bold marker: FAGGOT. "Blaine! Wait!"

Blaine had decided to leave that on, too, and had walked through the rest of the hall with it on. When he'd entered the conference room off of Figgins' office, all the adults had gone silent at his entrance, broken by his mother's exclamation, "Blaine! What happened to you?" Then, without a word, he'd turned around and showed them his back. When he turned around again, he saw that his mother looked pale, and his father looked absolutely furious. He really didn't even look at the rest of the grownups in the room for a while, unable to tear himself away from the sight of his parents.

After Principal Figgins introduced everyone, he'd asked Coach Beiste to go first. She'd stood up, and Blaine was impressed by her appearance: she was wearing a tailored blazer and skirt, and in her moderate heels towered over almost everyone. She walked over to Blaine, and asked him, "Would you like to speak first, Blaine? If everyone's all right with it?" Everyone had nodded silent assent, and he'd grabbed his notes to address the room.

_It's just like another costume, like props,_ he thought; _and this is a performance_. He smiled a megawatt smile at his parents, put down his notes, and addressed them.

"I didn't choose to be quite so, ah," he paused for effect, "_colorful_, as I am right now. I didn't choose to maybe ruin my nice new blazer – sorry, mom," and he smiled reassuringly at his mom, no more upset looking than if he's spilled milk at dinner. "I definitely didn't choose to have this," and he turned almost all the way around, showing the sticky note still on his back, as if the adults present could have forgotten it, as though it were at all forgettable, "on my back. No. This morning, as I was walking down the hall to join you, I was targeted, chosen for this treatment because I am gay. Which I also didn't choose, by the way." A few adults shifted uncomfortably, but the room was so silent it didn't sound like anyone had even taken a breath.

"This happened in the middle of the school day, and the people who did this did it without fear of any punishment, despite the fact that the hall was crowded with witnesses. I'll survive this. But what if it became something more dangerous? What if I didn't have the support I have," and he looked to his mother, then the two Coaches, Mr. Schue, and his Civics teacher. "What if the attack was more physical? What message does this give to the other students? What if I were too traumatized to learn in an environment full of hate, directed at me for something I cannot change? I propose that it is time to add actions like these: harassment, attacks, to the criteria for hate crimes, and publicize it, so that no one can claim ignorance. You have the opportunity to act, to make a difference, and maybe to prevent a crime that would haunt you, if you did nothing to prevent it."

"Thank you, Blaine," Shannon Beiste addressed him. She indicated the packets in front of each attendee. "You all got the proposal electronically before the meeting, but I wanted you to have this, to refer to here."

* * *

The proposal hadn't been accepted without some controversy, but in the end, the majority had carried the day, and Figgins announced it would be publicized within the week, since Shannon had already prepared the materials in advance, as he had requested.

"Son, I'm proud of you," Michael Anderson reached around his son to remove the offending note from his back. "You've got what it takes to make one hell of a lawyer: your speaking skills are impressive, and you manage to use a flair for the dramatic to your advantage." He nodded to his son, in a gesture that looked man to man. "Well played."

"Sweetie," his mom looked almost confused, wanting to wrap her son in a hug, but he was still sticky and awful; she settled for stroking his arm, and brushing a curl out of his eyes. "I'm so proud of you. Are you all right?"

"I am. I swear I didn't plan it this way," and he grinned at both of them, "but this was way more effective than if I'd just explained it." He ached to text Kurt, and tell him all about it; excited that maybe some things might finally change. But he didn't want to offend his parents by ignoring them, and kept looking at his father. _He sounds proud of me_, Blaine could not stop thinking. They seemed frozen in place for a minute or two, but then his mother took charge.

"Michael, we can't go to lunch like that -"

"Of course not. Blaine, come with me; your mother will reserve a table and we'll meet at The Colonnade. We'll stop and get you a change of clothes en route." Christine had nodded, and with a quick peck to Blaine's cheek, left the room.

Blaine followed his father in silence. _Shopping with father, now that's a new one._ He couldn't recall ever having gone clothes shopping with him; he'd barely shopped with him at all in his life, and their few awkward trips, to get birthday presents for his mom or Cooper, had never been much fun. _This should be interesting. _

He joined his father in his impeccable black Lexus. His father found the restaurant on the GPS, then checked the route. Looking up, he said, "there's a J Crew on the way, not even a detour. Sound okay?"

Blaine shook his head, startled. _He's asking my opinion_. "Sure … sounds good."

His mother had smiled at them as they joined her, not long after. Blaine was certain Kurt would've found the shopping experience unsatisfactory, but his father had basically decided to go with a look on one of the mannequins, enlisted sales help to get the outfit in the right size for his son, and approved it once he had it on. He was now wearing navy casual pants, with a maroon polo shirt, and a light gray cardigan with an edge stripe of navy blue. Kurt would consider it an upgrade, he supposed, from his usual McKinley look.

They'd enjoyed their lunches, and then Michael met Christine's eyes and addressed their son over coffee and dessert. "Blaine, you've done an impressive job, managing at McKinley. But I wanted to offer one more time – if you want to come back to Dalton, I'll pay; tuition, and board too. I want you safe."

**A/N: I do apologize for the paltry amount of fluff, and promise to make up for it. I promise to update soon too. I'd love to hear from you; I know this chapter was a little different. I'll also say, I love hearing from you, whether a quick comment or something more. Till next time!**


	45. Chapter 45

**A/N: Still don't own Glee etc., but I did leave you on a cliff, so here goes...**

_This is dedicated to Selibow … we all need to just get through a tough week now and then_

from last time...

_They'd enjoyed their lunches, and then Michael met Christine's eyes and addressed their son over coffee and dessert. "Blaine, you've done an impressive job, managing at McKinley. But I wanted to offer one more time – if you want to come back to Dalton, I'll pay; tuition, and board too. I want you safe."_

Blaine dropped his dessert fork, not hearing the clatter as it fell to his plate that everyone else in the quiet, tastefully decorated room clearly heard. His father's intense blue eyes were fully on his son. Blaine tore his gaze away to look at his mother, whose face was a confusing mashup of hope and sadness; she nervously played her fingers on the rim of her water glass, her eyes darting from her husband to her son, then settling to a point somewhere far away. He felt drawn back to his father's gaze, which looked like it hadn't moved at all.

He suddenly felt like his mouth was dry, no, not even his mouth, his whole throat. Blaine looked away, towards the large windows at the front of the restaurant, poured water from the crystal decanter into his own glass, and had a few sips, before looking back up to his parents. He took a deep breath, gathered his thoughts, and looked straight at his father.

"Father, I'm glad you came today; really, I am. I … I always want to impress you -" his voice trailed off. He somehow didn't want to have that kind of conversation anymore, the ones where he made it clear exactly why he was at his mother's side in Lima, why he would not be returning to the spacious home in Westerville any more than he had to, why he was sick of his father's subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) attacks on him for something that was as much a part of him as his curly hair. "So, I'm glad that I did. And I know you don't like making the same offer twice," he smiled, remembering many little moments in his childhood that had taught him this, "let alone having to sweeten the deal," and now he grinned at his father, who did a mock _'I'm wounded' _expression, hands over heart, face screwed into a parody of misery, ruined only by the smile he returned to his son, "but I'm going to say no."

"What? But, sweetie, I know you miss the Warblers -"

"You don't really want McKinley to be the last thing on your transcript when you apply to colleges -"

"May I interrupt you two?" Blaine stood up, uncomfortably aware that he'd interrupted both his parents, who, to be fair, had been talking over each other. _Why the hell am I standing? _He wondered, before reaching back, and settling back down into his chair. "Father, I don't want to leave. I'm settled in at McKinley, and maybe I'm doing what you talked about, why you said choosing to study law is a powerful choice: I'm helping make change happen. I want to make a difference. And I like it there, now, more than I expected to." His gaze back to his father was just as intense as his father's had been earlier. He left unsaid what his father could guess he was also thinking: I'm not leaving mom. And I'm not leaving Kurt, now that I've found him.

The elder Anderson studied his son, weighing his words, and filling in what he wasn't saying. He decided on a tack sure to gain Christine's support in swaying their son. He smiled before speaking, and raised his eyesbrows. "You're showing me more and more that you'd make a killer lawyer, son; no one here is doubting your skill at rhetoric. And _bravo_ – you probably are instrumental in making that place less of a jungle, even if you do as I ask and leave now. Don't you see that? But you've been hurt while you've been there, and situations don't change overnight. The first rule of being a rescuer is to make sure you don't end up having to be rescued too. Your last time at a public high school didn't end well, and the … reason precipitating that attack is still there. I see now that Dalton is where you should be, and if you'd rather board there, so be it." He finished his closing argument by reaching over and encircling Christine's hands within his own, and looking down at her with a soft, reassuring smile.

_Dirty! Foul!_ Blaine's mind screamed. _There's a reason he's known as being a practically unbeatable trial lawyer. _He'd deftly avoided what Blaine had been too diplomatic to say, and enlisted his mother's greatest fears to gain her support. That, and he'd given a downpour of praise that sounded sincere, and Blaine was still so eager for his father's approval that even a few drops of it might have been effective. "No. I'm not leaving mom," he stated levelly, his eyes warning his father, begging him to not make him say it: _because you cheated on her, broke her heart, and made her leave you_. He gulped. "I'm not leaving McKinley either – I don't want to run from the world anymore, let the bullies win. And ..." he faltered here, not knowing if his father knew at all about Kurt.

Christine looked about to cry, and just looking pleadingly at her son. "Mom, I'm going to be okay. Things are even going to get better there." Mother and son shared a lingering look: they both knew Kurt was a huge influence on Blaine's decision right then, but she would not force that conversation between father and son. "Dad, please … I appreciate the offer, and I'm so glad you got to see today, even if you did need to take me clothes shopping – _for the first time ever._" His voice had changed to a teasing tone with that last phrase, but his father mostly heard the first word.

Michael Anderson's cool, in-charge expression didn't fade, it vanished. _Did Blaine even know what he'd just said? He hasn't called me dad in years._ His mouth flopped open, and his wife giggled, seeing her usually unflappable soon to be ex lose his composure. She grinned a smirky grin at her son, knowing exactly why he had transformed, thinking her son didn't –_ he probably thinks he's reacting to his little shopping joke._

His father shook his head, summoned back his usual bland smile that said 'I'm interested, but don't think I'm not still in control of this conversation'. "Don't worry, son, it won't be repeated." Clearing his suddenly raw-feeling throat, he tacked on, "I've been meaning to get you your own credit card, to avoid just this sort of thing."

The tension seemed to break, just as he'd hoped it would, mother and son both laughing, as he gestured to their server to refill their coffees. "But, I don't want you to give me a hasty answer, Blaine. The offer stands. Your mother and I will talk about it some more too, and I hope we can get you to reconsider."

The time remaining seemed more relaxed after that. Michael had purposefully ordered the Death by Chocolate dessert he knew his wife wouldn't order (but would really want), and enjoyed cajoling her into sharing it with him, remembering back to countless times they'd done just that. He'd also insisted on buying some of the restaurant's signature jarred spaghetti sauce for them to take home and have for another day. He'd even turned his dazzling smile on the waitress, kindly complimenting her on the service, and had left a generous but not ridiculous tip. Blaine watched his parents, not sure what to think. His mother had been quieter than usual, but as the dessert went on, made eye contact with his father more often, and had even allowed him to feed her the first bite of his delicious dessert. Next, it was his turn to be surprised.

"Blaine, the cheesecake here is excellent. Did you want to take a piece to go, to surprise Kurt?"

* * *

The day was shot, as far as getting to the last afternoon classes went. His mother had signed him back in, and he'd gone to the last half hour of his last class, bursting with impatience to see Kurt.

He couldn't believe his mother had actually told his father about him and Kurt. He wondered if they'd been talking much more than he knew. He'd actually almost snorted coffee all over the table, saved only by the large cloth napkin he'd had the reflexes to put up to his face when his father offered to buy the cheesecake for Kurt. They hadn't talked much about it, and he'd not wanted to prod his mother about it on the short ride back to school. He waited outside Kurt's last class, with the beautiful pearl gray box in hand, finished off with a turquoise ribbon, and fortunately, Kurt was the first one out.

"Blaine! I got your text, I want to hear everything! Coach Sue said you were great in there, and that they're actually going to change school policy … what is that?" Kurt stopped mid-babble, as Blaine dangled the fancy, small dessert box in front of him. "You got me a present?"

Blaine giggled a little. "Well, not me exactly … it's from my father. Wanna go get some coffee?"

**A/N: Yes, this is short, but I have to work again, a lot, in the next couple of days, and won't be back (most likely) until Saturday night. And I just couldn't leave you with that much suspense.**

**It's funny, being a writer, sometimes. I swear, I didn't mean for this to happen, but it's like Michael Anderson sat me down, turned those gorgeous eyes on me (he is Coop's dad too, after all, and I picture him as an older version of Coop) and asked me to please make him a real person. Don't worry, he's still a manipulative ass who cheated on his adorable wife, and no one's going to nominate him for sainthood any time soon. But he's had a reason for his change for the better, which we'll get to see some of. And he has a talent for getting at a person's weak spot – and buying him an expensive, exquisitely wrapped individual serving of his boyfriend's favorite dessert (well, one of them) scores points with Blaine, whether he likes it or not.**

**Thanks, by the way, are in order to all of you who encourage me with your comments, encouraging me, and helping me make this a better story (don't doubt your power for one moment). I do love hearing from you, and would love to know what you think of this Anderson-centric chapter. Special thanks to BlurtItAllOut (forgive me if my plot bunnies keep you from sleep); I'mJustDefyingGravityX3, I hope you are able to give Michael a chance to show more of himself; Sophhires, I hope you approve where the Anderson dynamic is going; RoseCriss, well, Blaine was out of badboy drag for this chapter, but don't get used to it; msdarque, you're so welcome!; Selibow, we're not quite done with Rick … can't give details yet...; Mykidsingsglee, DancingintheRayne … always nice to hear from you too. And dear readers, I'll miss you until I get to update in a few days, but love to hear from you (I sneak peeks at my in-box sometimes, which can be even better than a nonfact mocha grande).**


	46. Chapter 46

**A/N: I don't own Glee, or any songs or products you see here, but just borrow with love and affection, to write for fun (until they hire me to write for the show …) By the way, I promise, there is klaineness and fluff in this very chapter. Really. Truth in advertising, and all that.**

_This chapter is dedicated to Captain Slayden; thank you so much for encouraging me_

Blaine couldn't understand it. _Sometimes_, he thought, _I don't need to; I just need to release it._ It was weird: he'd had a wonderful coffee date with Kurt (who had loved the cheesecake, and had reminded him that it was only because he loved his boyfriend even more that he'd convinced Blaine to have some too). But now, mulling over the events of the day, he just couldn't wind down. True, the meeting at school had gone really well: his argument had been effective, and with Coach Beiste, they'd started the process to bring real change to McKinley. His father had even witnessed this, and had been open in his admiration of how well his son comported himself, and then taken it upon himself to get Blaine a new outfit before meeting with his mother for lunch. This had had its awkward moments, to be sure, but it had been kind of nice to be cared for. Blaine had replayed the lunch in his head as he'd done his boxing workout, and then a new routine, alone in the house after Kurt had dropped him home.

* * *

Christine Anderson let herself into the dark house, the living room lit only by the decorative lamp connected to a timer. She knew Blaine was home, and he'd returned her text. Crossing to the kitchen, she heard sounds from the basement, and knew he'd be down there, either working out or practicing. She listened, and heard an unfamiliar sequence that sounded like two impacts in succession, with a clinking noise punctuating each one, followed after by almost inaudible _twapping_ noises. She listened at the door leading to the basement, head tilted to the side, then opened the door, calling down, "Blaine? I'm home, honey. What're you doing?"

"Mom? Just practicing, mom. I'll be up in a few."

"'kay, sweetie." _He doesn't sound upset._ She wondered what he would think if he knew, and how much she would tell him. She thought back to her 'date' with Michael, after she'd dropped Blaine off at school.

* * *

"This really is a nice park," he'd commented inanely, following her lead on the walkway that led to the azalea gardens. He was glad for something to do, even if it was just walking. They hadn't talked much about the divorce, other than in formal meetings that always included other people.

"Michael, you didn't ask to see me after dropping off Blaine to admire a park." She looked at him, and wanted to take back her frank words. He looked wounded, unsure; not at all like the man she thought she knew. _He's hurt me so much, why am I so careful of hurting him all of a sudden? _But she was. She'd never thought matching pain to pain got anyone anywhere, and despite all she'd been through, she took no pleasure in wounding him. "Maybe you can tell me what's on your mind," she added, in a softer tone.

He took encouragement from this. "I've never taken it off. My ring." He pointed to the wedding band which matched her own, white gold with a fine braid of gold on top and bottom. He'd seen her hands enough to know that hers was still in place too. "I don't want to, Chris." He looked hopefully, trying to read her face, which he found impossible. He towered over her, to begin with, and her face was now fixed on the ground in front of them, making it futile for him to even try to see her expression as they walked. "I am so, so sorry."

She gulped, not knowing what to say. Her family had been her rock throughout a whole series of heartbreaks involving Michael, and to a lesser degree, her son, and she already knew how outraged they'd be if they knew she was even considering anything more than a speedy and final divorce. She smirked grimly, part of her conscious that as a lawyer he had more credibility, presenting himself as a solid citizen, wearing a conspicuous wedding band, than not. She even knew some lawyers who had rings they wore only to court, part of the elaborate theater they engaged in to gain a jury's trust, or intimidate opponents. Knowing his motives for anything was always a complicated mental exercise: he could be a calculating son of a bitch.

The silence had dragged on. She hadn't accepted his apology, but hadn't thrown it back at him either. He took that as a sign that he could continue. "I really was hoping that Blaine would want to go back to Dalton." He inclined his head, wishing for a reaction of some kind. Part of what he'd said to Blaine was true; there was no question that Dalton was the better place for him to prepare for acceptance into a top university. He would unquestionably be safer there, too. Watching her walk slowly beside him, now gazing at the ducks that had landed by the lake, he wondered how much she might guess of his other motives.

"It's a little late for that, you know." He cheered inwardly, and she studied his face, finding a small smile growing there. "You know how Blaine is, he can be stubborn. I have no idea where he gets that from."

Michael had a hard time not picking up his tiny wife (she was still technically that) and kissing her, right there; the playful, mocking tone and squinched smile he loved were there, and he hadn't seen them in such a long time. "Maybe _you_ … I recall a certain someone who resisted going out at least three times before finally letting a guy buy her a friendly after-work dinner."

"Maybe the stubborn one is the one who_ kept asking_ … even when the girl in question tried to make it clear she doesn't date people she works with, not to mention a partner of the firm." _It was too easy, too easy for sure to fall into this, _she thought_. When Michael turns his attention to you, and flirts, and reminds you of the good times, it's just impossible. I need to be stronger than that. _

"Some things, some people, are worth being stubborn for." He smiled his winningest smile at her, and reached to gently direct her chin up (the only way she could see his face). "Chris. I am such an idiot. I need you. I need to make it right with you. I don't know how to do this." This was true, and they both knew it. Persevering wasn't something he knew how to do in his personal life; Christine was his third wife. He hadn't been able to overcome the gut-wrenching pain when his first wife, his girlfriend from his college years, had broken his heart by cheating on him, and later revealing she'd never loved him the way he had thought he'd loved her: he'd been the immature, handsome party-boy, poised for success in a firm his father had built, and she'd been what he wanted: beautiful, fun-loving, and ready to ditch her own ambitions to be the young lawyer's wife. He hadn't pursed her, when he'd learned the awful truth; it hadn't seemed like there was anything to fight for.

His second wife, Cooper's mother, left him when he became too distant, too focused on his career, and her resentment at never claiming his attention more than his work eventually became too toxic. He'd kept himself busy for a time, working even harder, becoming ever more successful, and making partner in the firm. His divorce from Joanne was cordial, as everyone knew: they'd managed to split parenting duties amicably, and he hadn't fought her requests in the settlement; perhaps because they'd never been tightly bonded as a couple to begin with. Now that Coop was himself an adult, they had no need of continued contact, so had let things lapse into the recesses of memory.

Cooper would always claim that he fell in love with Christine first. Michael would drag Coop along to his inevitable extra hours put in at the office on the weekends, and the little boy had gravitated towards the accountant who was often there too: Christine. He'd been nine years old, and already knew how to charm the grownups around him. She watched the boy as he followed his father, always starting the same way, optimistic, hopeful that _this_ day at the office would be fun. She hated to see the disappointment on the boy's face as his father paid only cursory attention to the endless funny little drawings the boy made, or the little shows he put on with his stuffed toys. In time, he'd learned that the accountant was always ready to look up from her work to examine his pictures, or to offer him hot tea (which made him feel so grown up), and would happily greet him with a hug whenever he showed up. Taking pity on the restless child, she'd invite him to go with her for walks in the park across from the firm, usually stopping for a donut on the way back, and always letting him finish hers.

Michael began to notice, and hearing the peals of laughter as his son shared a joke on their way back in, he looked at her: tiny, with a sweep of glossy long black hair that was usually swept into a chignon during the week, but was windswept and free coming in from their walk. She couldn't talk without using her hands when she was excited, and her laughter was infectious. Her smile was so beautiful, and her eyes were not exactly brown, but more a warm, honeyed hazel. He found himself watching her as she got back to work: delicate hands with fingers flying over the computer's keyboard, her face obscured by a curtain of her hair as she concentrated, her brows cutely furrowed from time to time.

Pretty as the eventual Mrs. Anderson was, Michael had been captivated by her irreverent, quirky personality just as much. Unlike the other women he knew, she didn't seem impressed or intimidated by him, and had surprised him by turning him down repeatedly. His reputation had preceded him: she knew, as did everyone else at the tight-knit law firm, that he'd been twice divorced, and was simultaneously way too married to his work, and fond of random dates with pretty, unattached women. In the end, Cooper had actually asked her, on his dad's behalf, to finally accept his offer of a dinner date, and she'd fallen in love with the charismatic attorney. Eventually, she'd ignored the warnings of her family and friends, judging for herself that he'd revealed that he really did have a heart, that he was still capable of falling in love and wanting to do better this time as a parent.

Eighteen years later, their world had imploded when Michael's attention strayed, to an intern who looked like his first wife. He would eventually kick himself for this, for the gradual attention he reciprocated to the girl, and how his shift of affections first hurt his wife's feelings, and then broke her heart when she discovered what she'd never wanted to learn. Blaine had been boarding at Dalton, and his parents were accomplices in making excuses, enabling him to spend more weekends there, until May, when his grandparents came back from Arizona, their winter home. By the time Blaine learned any of this, a month later, his mother was usually composed around him, and his father started avoiding the angry teen who blamed him for abandoning his mother. He'd moved with her to the house in Lima without question when the semester ended, and pledged to remain with her, only seeing his father when given no other choice.

Blaine had no problem in allaying himself squarely on his mother's side. He had his own problems with the senior Anderson: after the Sadie Hawkins incident, once he'd gotten over the shock and outrage that his son had been so badly hurt, he'd been anything but accepting of the fact that his son was gay. Blaine had been persistent for a while, trying to do the things together they both enjoyed (football games, going to the gym, even restoring a vintage car) but the veneer of closeness always peeled away: Michael's insistence that maybe his son wasn't really gay, that it was maybe a phase, or later, a lifestyle choice (which he wanted his son to un-choose, immediately) drove Blaine away. For Blaine, betraying his mother's love by cheating on her, on top of all that, had all but driven him to refuse to speak to his father.

Through all of this, Christine had refused to speak ill of Michael to Blaine. She would admit, especially to her sister Mimi, that this was at times a really hard resolution to stick with. Mimi hadn't been surprised that her sister was able to do it: Chris had always been stubborn, and stronger than you'd suspect. And she'd always hoped that one day Blaine and Michael could have a real relationship, if the anger ever blew over.

* * *

Blaine had avoided talking every aspect of this through with Kurt. They'd had a lot to talk about anyway, with the school board meeting and what it might mean in practice. Blaine regretted mentioning the renewal of the Dalton offer to Kurt, who had clearly been conflicted by it: wanting him to be happy, and knowing how much he'd loved Dalton and the Warblers, and (Blaine could just see it), heartsick that the boy he loved might be spending most of his time almost two hours away. Blaine had reiterated his refusal, and his reasons. Putting away his equipment, he was finally able to piece together what had driven him to this long workout: no solution he could think of made everyone happy, not even him. He hated that, knowing that his father wanted him in Westerville, and would pay to send him to Dalton and board there, taking this as second best (the intial offer had been for him to live in his father's spacious house). His mother, he knew, would be terribly saddened if he went, but was also worried about him, and felt guilty, holding him back to go to public school. He kicked himself for burdening Kurt; hated that guilt was seeping everywhere, and that he was somehow responsible.

Kurt, he knew, would understand least of all Blaine's frustration with his father, and his ambivalence (maybe anger, too?) at the idea of his father maybe trying to win his mother back. What if he just ended up hurting her again? Was that really better than letting her move on, as she was trying to do? Kurt was a romantic, and for all his snarkiness really had a forgiving heart; Blaine wasn't sure he was ready to forgive. Kurt also couldn't really conceive of this problem: he'd lost his mother to death, and she had apparently been beloved by father and son. The idea of parents alive and well, and able to be together (but choosing not to be) was something Blaine didn't think Kurt would be much help on.

* * *

Blaine wiped himself down with his hand towel before mounting the stairs. "Hi, mom."

"Sweetie, you look exhausted."

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Yeah. I think I'm gonna shower and go to bed." Odd for him not to want to talk more to his mother, but right now he just didn't feel ready, not unless she started it.

She pressed a glass of cold water into his hands and rubbed his shoulder, and smiled at him. "I can't say that's a bad plan. Drink this, okay. Love you!"

"Love you too, mom." He trudged upstairs, and felt hollow; now he didn't feel he could even say what was on his mind to his own mother, and she hadn't volunteered anything. Stripping to get into the shower, he wondered how a day that started so well ended up feeling like this.

* * *

The next morning Blaine was awakened by the chiming of his phone, and he reached for it automatically, smiling when he saw the message: **Too soon to say I've missed you? Love you, K.** He blearily looked at the clock and was startled that he'd slept that long; was it really almost eleven o'clock? **Not a moment too soon. Call me? Love you, so much, B. **he'd quickly texted back.

"Hey, sleepy? Want to come over for breakfast?" Blaine could hear the smile in Kurt's voice.

"You want to come here? I make most excellent toast," Blaine teased back. "And, mom's at work until about noon..."

"How could I pass on most excellent toast? With coffee; I know you can make that."

"Of course coffee." Blaine chuckled back.

"I'm already gone," Kurt shot back.

Blaine smiled; the only way his boyfriend would do that is if he were already awake and fully dressed, and of course moisturized, etc. He hurried to put coffee on, then dashed back upstairs to throw on some dark wash jeans and a tee. He brushed his teeth but decided to ditch shaving, wanting to be ready when Kurt arrived, which he did, moments after the coffee was ready.

Opening the door, Blaine caught Kurt by the waist, spun him into the hallway, and closed the door, practically all in one motion. "Someone's speedy," he breathed into Kurt's ear, before kissing him soundly.

Kurt responded to the kiss immediately, which quickly became heated. When he drew back for a moment, he was happy to see that Blaine's off mood from yesterday seemed vanished. The beautiful boy facing him still looked slightly sleepy, but was smiling, slightly stubbly, wearing his adorable glasses, and his hair fell in soft curls. In his bare feet he was shorter than usual, and Kurt quickly moved to remove his boots, while he sang a snatch of song to him,

_ Good morning, starshine, the Earth says hello!_

Blaine answered back, smiling brightly at Kurt, and pulling him towards the living room,

_You twinkle above us, we twinkle below_

then they sang together, both of them really pleased that they both knew this song,

_Good morning, sharshine, you lead us along_

_ My love and me as we sing_

_ Our early morning singing song._

"I love that song!" Blaine enthused. "My grandma still loves to sing that to me; it reminds me of visiting her and gramps at the lake house."

"I love it too," Kurt added, remembering it was one of his mother's favorites too. Letting Blaine pull his boots off, he smiled a gentle smile at him and added quietly, "I love you. I don't know if I'll ever get tired of saying that -"

"I could never get tired of hearing it. You are so perfect." Suddenly, Blaine's face was inches from his, and they were together on the couch. Blaine reached for Kurt, and wondered how things had managed to look so bleak last night, with Kurt here beside him, and no one around to interrupt them, as he kissed Kurt deeply.

Kurt happily returned Blaine's enthusiastic embrace, and found himself tangled together with Blaine on the couch, lost in the most delicious sensations, and thinking in that moment he could never want anything more than he wanted Blaine. Soon both of them were excited and breathless, lost in exploring each other's mouths and bodies. Kurt groaned as he felt Blaine's strong hands slip under his shirt, slipping to grip his hips and rock against him, and oh god, had anything ever felt that good? Blaine hummed and kissed every inch of Kurt's neck before joining together for kisses that were sloppy and wonderful in their imperfection. Both of them startled at the clock when it chimed twelve bells, and Blaine reluctantly pulled Kurt beside him to a sitting position.

"Maybe it would be better if mom didn't walk in on this." They looked at each other, and giggled, just staring at each other's eyes. Blaine noticed a hickey that was (oops) a little higher than he thought it would be, and hoped Kurt didn't mind too much. He wondered if maybe he could buy Kurt a new scarf...

"What's _that_ look for? Why am I thinking I shouldn't trust you right now?" Kurt teased Blaine, noticing his boyfriend's mischievous expression.

"Mmm... maybe after, ah, coffee, I can go buy you a new scarf?" Blaine looked almost guilty.

Kurt narrowed his eyes, and tried to look menacing (but knew as he did it that he'd failed; he was still far too full of endorphins to shake the happiness he felt). "You didn't."

"Um, maybe I did? Sorry?"

Kurt surprised him by smiling then, and leaning over to give him a cute kiss on his nose. "How could I be angry at this?" Sighing, he continued, "sheesh, look at yourself." He knew what he saw: his adorable boyfriend, relaxed and happy, with just a touch of puppy eyes. "You will be buying me that scarf, mister, make no mistake."

"Of course I will. Oh … did you still want coffee?" he noticed the slightly burnt coffee smell now. He'd totally forgotten about it.

"Of course I do. And toast."

**A/N: Glad to be back, meaning, not working tonight. I have been encouraged by your reviews, and by P Ms, to give you some more of Blaine's family; hope you like it, and I'd love to hear from you, either way. Understanding them will of course lead to understanding Blaine better, and some of his reactions to things that will come later. The boys sang a little of Good Morning, Starshine, from the musical Hair. **

**Thank you, dear reviewers, for your feedback; as I've communicated to you, it means a lot to me to hear from you, and some of you have definitely influenced story events. Special thanks to _Captain Slayden_, who had a lot to say about Blaine's family dynamics – I hope this chapter met with your approval. _Blurtitallout_, I know that our conversations always help me in a crucial part of my writing process: thinking about the plot for a few days before I get a chance to sit and write what comes next. _VisionImpossible_, it's always nice to hear from a reader who has invested a whole bunch of time in my tale at one go, (and you were kind enough to tell me you loved it). I do that too; sometimes finding a new story, and staying up late to read it; so fun. _I'mJustDefyingGravityX3_, I wonder what you think of Michael now? I'd love to know; he's definitely a mixed bag of a character. _DumbHumanLikeYou, msdarque, Sopphires, RoseCriss, DancingintheRayne, Shorty, _and_ Mykidsingsglee_, I hope you all get to read this, and I hope I haven't lost or bored anyone (if I have, I apologize, and please let me know your thoughts). **

**Big things are coming up next in the plot, so stay tuned. Love and peace to you all.**


	47. Chapter 47

**A/N: Still don't own Glee, but if I did … we wouldn't be in klaine withdrawal, for starters.**

_Dedicated to Orange Coy_ote

Sunday afternoon came, feeling like a familiar repeat to Blaine: homework to plough through, and a feeling that if he didn't see Kurt soon he'd never get back to concentrating. He smiled, reaching for his phone, picturing Kurt and imagining he probably would agree. He was about to compose a text, when his mom stepped into the doorway of his bedroom.

"Hey, sweetie." She smiled at her son, surrounded by books, calculator, laptop, graph paper, guitar out on his bed. "How's it going?"

"Hi, mom," he smiled back to her, their smiles so similar. "Well, I still have some stuff to do, but it'll get there. I was just about to -"

"Text Kurt and see if he wanted a break too," she finished for him, playfully swatting his upper arm as she joined him on the bed, sitting with her feet tucked under her. "Not a bad idea, but I just wanted to talk to you a little first."

Blaine raised his eyebrows just slightly, as he waited for her to tell him what was on her mind. He noticed that she looked relaxed, slightly playful; which relaxed him too.

"I was surprised that you didn't ask me about last night. I think you're curious though, and I wanted to tell you about some of it." Her tone remained steady, and she unconsciously reached out to caress her son's shoulder. "Nothing bad. I swear."

Blaine wasn't sure he did want to know, still feeling confused by how his father had acted yesterday. He wanted to believe that things could be good again, but felt defeated in that before he could even start by the reminder that things hadn't been good in a long time. He remembered his parents becoming cold towards each other when he was recovering from the attack in his freshman year (his first freshman year, that was). He'd been broken, physically, and it took weeks to heal his body. His psyche had never fully recovered; one of the many things his therapist brought to light was that even if he didn't know why his parents' marriage seemed to be falling apart, he was not to assume blame for it. He'd made progress on that, as he had in other ways, learning to make friends again, finding joy again, and picking up new skills that helped him physically (magic, juggling, playing musical instruments, and even knife throwing had all been encouraged by his occupational therapist) and socially (he'd found great friends at Dalton, and the Warblers had helped his confidence soar, as he discovered and shared his musical and performing talents).

He'd never stopped wanting the picture of his family from an earlier time: he would swear he remembered a time when his parents loved each other, and he'd always worshiped his half-brother Cooper. It was natural that he was confused that the parents who had parted this spring, with his mother so brave but not really herself, and his father so easy to loathe, cheating on her, and the longer-standing wound of resentment borne of lack of acceptance and support.

Christine watched her son's face as he waited for her to go on, the dance of emotions across his face so easy to read. "For one thing, it wasn't really a date so much."

Blaine smiled a small smile at her, then looked down at his hands, nodding his head, before lifting his face to look at her again. "Really? So, what was it? You were gone a long time."

"Well, we went for a walk first, and we just talked. Yes, it was awkward." She squeezed his shoulder at his eye-roll. "But we had an appointment to go to, and time to kill. We went to the bank too," and she reached for an envelope, passing it to Blaine.

"I don't need that! I have a job, he can't just buy my -"

"Blaine!"

He was brought up short by her sharp tone. "Sorry, mom," he murmured.

"It's okay, sweetie." She smiled broadly at him. "Don't worry, I told him that's exactly what you'd say! Damn. I should've seen if I could have placed a bet on that … Anyway, he wanted you to have it. It's a debit card linked to his account." Blaine's eyes widened at this; Michael Anderson had several different accounts, of course, but he'd always treated financial matters seriously. "He told me to tell you to feel free to use it, for any emergencies, and also, to buy some clothes." She surprised him by giggling a little. "I'm thinking he'd really rather not have to take you clothes shopping himself. Silly man. If I didn't buy him things to wear God only knows what his wardrobe would be like."

She continued, her tone serious, as she looked straight at her son's eyes. "This is a big step for him. He's showing you that he trusts you, and he wants you to know that if you need something, he'll take care of it."

Blaine nodded, not expecting this, or knowing what to say. He didn't feel like he'd want to use it at all, but his mother clearly wanted him to take it, so he reached for it as she handed it to him, examining the bank card with his name on it.

"You said you were killing time before an appointment. What appointment?" She'd mentioned all the meetings she'd gone to, most recently with the mediator. He was sure she'd never mentioned one for last night.

"It was with Mimi's pastor. I was there for part of it, but part of it was just him and Reverend Johnathan."

Blaine was stunned; his parents practically never went to church, and he himself hadn't been in a couple of years, unless you counted family weddings and baptisms. "I don't even know what kind of church they go to..." Blaine's voice trailed off.

"Same as us, sweetie. Anyway, the Reverend talked to us together about, um, marital problems," she gulped, and really didn't want to share that part with her son, "but he talked to your father alone for about an hour."

Blaine listened as his mother shared what her husband told her after; how the Episcopal priest had offered to talk about Michael's feelings about his son, and what he might want to do to repair their relationship. The priest had been straightforward in addressing Michael's behavior and remarks about Blaine's coming out. When it was clear that Michael was willing to at least talk about it, Johnathan had patiently gone over how the Episcopal church had evolved in its acceptance of the variety of sexual orientations. He'd admitted that although the climate of embracing and accepting all was gaining ground, even in the denomination it wasn't universal; that some congregations had tried to break apart and denounce the openly gay bishop for the state of New Hampshire, for instance.

Johnathan's approach had been kind but firm: acknowledging that being open to changing old assumptions was hard, but that it was work that was worth doing, and that he had a personal stake: if he did not find a way to understand and accept his son, he would eventually lose him. Michael had surprised the priest by admitting that if he'd said some of the things he'd said to his son to anyone in his law firm, he would have faced discipline, a lawsuit, and possibly loss of his position, under the guidelines the firm operated under. Johnathan had laughed at the way Michael had disclosed this, and pronounced that there was indeed hope for him. Michael had agreed to watch a few short videos with him, including the "It Gets Better" piece on Youtube by the openly gay bishop of New Hampshire, Gene Robinson. At the end of the session, Michael had also asked to talk with him again, and they'd made an appointment to meet the next week.

Blaine was amazed to hear all of this. He hated it that doubt crept in right away; was he sincere, or just trying to manipulate them?

"Honey, you've hardly had a word to say about this," his mother had finished.

"I … I just can't believe it. I didn't know there was anyone who could talk to him about this, and the church isn't where I'd expected anything so … supportive. What do _you_ think, mom?"

She sighed. "I think I don't know yet. But I'm willing to encourage him, and see what happens. No matter what happens, I do want you to get your father back." At this, her voice broke, and tears she couldn't hold back started to flow.

"Oh mom," Blaine managed to get out, enveloping his mother in a firm hug, and finding he was now crying too, then surprised at how his tears progressed to sobs. _What is wrong with me? I should be happy at this._

Christine pulled back a few minutes later, as her son's sobs tapered off to sniffles, and met his gaze with a watery smile. "Give it a chance, okay, sweetie?" She reached forward to kiss his forehead.

"I'll try."

* * *

1 AM. Blaine groaned, closing his computer, having sent his last assignment in to his English teacher. He was surprised at how tired he felt, so ready to just go to sleep already, and grateful tomorrow was a half day, anticipating already how much he'd want to curl up with Kurt to watch whatever the hell Kurt wanted, to curl up and sleep while it played. They'd gone for coffee, then had dinner with Kurt's family, and talked until he'd had to go home. Kurt had listened to every detail, proving to be a very good listener when Blaine needed to talk. He'd even seen the video Blaine referred to (which kind of surprised Blaine, who knew how Kurt regarded religion in general), and approved of the way Michael was at least talking about it. Blaine hadn't expected Kurt to be as optimistic as he was, until Kurt had shared that his own dad (who was amazing) had even had trouble coming to terms with his coming out, but had become supportive and understanding.

Blaine blearily set the alarm, and rolled over, sinking quickly into sleep.

* * *

"I'll text you when I'm done with the Cheerios."

Blaine nodded, smiling at Kurt's eyes, and how they gleamed prettily in the light coming through the window in the hallway. "I'm just going to go do a short workout, then. Lima Bean, after?"

"Two days in a row? Never mind, as if I'd say no," Kurt teased, then inclined his lips to Blaine's ear, where he whispered, "I love you." Kurt stepped back and looked into Blaine's golden hazel eyes, now showing the tenderest expression of love in return.

"Love you too," he whispered, "_hurry_."

Kurt grinned back, squeezed Blaine's hand quickly, then headed towards the Cheerios' workout room. The school was emptying out, most students eager to enjoy the half day. Blaine almost made it to the locker room when he saw Rick the Stick and Brian, also on the hockey team, lazily heading towards him.

* * *

"Hey! Juvie fag – huh, you must be like, some sort of freak of nature." Rick was loud, and as usual he looked to his friend for a reaction, which of course Brian was eager to give, guffawing on cue.

Blaine's hands strayed to the loops on his jeans, as he let out an exasperated snort.

"What? Freak can't talk back anymore? Oh, yeah, I know you travel in twos nowadays with your butt buddy -"

"Shut up!" Blaine yelled, interrupting him, fingers twining in the chains hanging at his thighs.

"Not so brave today, widdle faggy hobbit doens't have anywone to pway wid?"

Blaine narrowed his eyes, willing himself to get under control. _His shit is all a performance. Wait until he sees mine_, and with that he mastered his outrage. The change in Blaine's expression went completely unnoticed by Rick, who punctuated his next statement with a shove to Blaine's chest. "Aww. _We_ could play with you, but maybe you wouldn't like the way we play." Rick stepped back, ensuring that Brian couldn't mistake his intent. "We don't play nice with faggots."

"Get out of my way. I have a workout to do." Blaine's voice was absolutely level, deadly.

"I don't think so." Rick turned away from Blaine, as if to engage Brian again in conversation. "I think poor little fag is lonely."

"Yeah." Brian answered, looking over at Blaine. "Real lonely."

"Move, assholes. Last warning." Blaine growled.

"That's it," and Rick took at step, ready to attack, when he was surprised by a fast flick from Blaine's wrist, and he felt the sting of the chain before he heard or saw it. Before he could react further than clutching his stinging wound in his other hand, he heard it again, and Brian received an identical hit.

"Fuck! What the -" Rick didn't get to finish, as Blaine whirled around quickly, and Rick found his hands enclosed in a tight, painful strip of thin plastic, immobilized by a disposable handcuff, which Brian acquired too mere seconds later.

None of the three had seen that their fight had attracted attention, and before he could see that Blaine had subdued them, Dave Karofsky was at Blaine's side, almost colliding with Rick as he tried to stop himself from a dead run. "Whaa?" he blurted out, stepping back in disbelief, seeing both Rick and Brian, who were looking angry and surprised at their tightly bound hands.

Blaine turned to Dave, surprised. "Uh, hey! Wanna watch these idiots a minute for me?" At Dave's dazed nod, Blaine whipped out his phone, closed it after a quick text, and faced his would-be attackers. "Don't even think about running, no way you'll outrun me."

"What the – you can't! – what the hell is this!" Rick spluttered, impotently. Dave just watched in silence, piecing together what must have happened, though he couldn't figure out how Blaine had managed to do what he'd evidently done, and he herded the hockey players up against the wall.

"Yeah, I mean, you can't just go and -"

"And, what?" Blaine scowled at them. "Defend myself? You're lucky I don't kick your asses, assholes. You're not worth it."

Blaine was interrupted by the sound of running feet, and Kurt's breathless, "Blaine! Are you all right!"

As Blaine smiled and opened his arms wide, displaying his very much intact body, Coach Sue's fast stride brought her to the group. "Porcelain, step aside. What have we here?" She narrowed her eyes at Blaine in accusation, and Rick jumped in, sure that he'd be seen as the victim here.

"That fucking juvie attacked us with chains, and then, I don't know how he did it, he fucking handcuffed us! Who knows what the hell he was going to do!" Rick's voice rose as he finished, becoming aware as he said it that he would indeed have been in danger, if Blaine had chosen to attack him.

"Show me." Coach Sue surveyed the hands that both boys raised. She turned her back to the hockey players, and giving an approving smirk to Blaine, she mouthed 'nice work' and spun to face the bound boys again.

"That's a pretty serious charge, there, bucko. Fortunately, with the new anti-bullying rules that are going into effect on Wednesday, I'd taken it upon myself to upgrade security." She pushed the surprised looking boys down the hall, to her office. "Right this way. I've got it all on tape, and I gotta tell you, it doesn't make it look at all good for you. But I want to hear your story, all of it, from your point of view..." and her voice faded as they walked away, and turned a corner.

Dave broke the silence, letting out a loud guffaw. "Holy shit! They are _so_ screwed!"

Kurt seemed to be in shock, even paler than usual, but his color was returning, as he'd examined Blaine and was finally reassured that he was completely fine. "What the hell happened!" Before he could answer, Kurt cut him off, remembering Dave's presence as they'd rushed to the scene. "Dave, you ran to help Blaine – I … I -"

"No, don't thank me." Dave swallowed, "he looked like he could use some help. How the hell did you _do_ that, man?" Dave directed his comment towards Blaine.

Blaine smiled broadly, and pointed to the chains on the floor, where they'd fallen when he moved to snap on the restraints. "A little misdirection, a little pain, and the element of surprise." Kurt nodded knowingly, still trying to calm his breathing, seeing the skills of the Amazing Blaine at work.

"They never knew what hit them." Kurt cooed at his boyfriend.

"Uh, cool. I don't exactly follow what you said or anything, but it's definitely cool," Dave added.

Kurt faced him. "Dave, no, listen, no minimizing this, okay? What you did, it means everything. It still counts – you didn't know that Blaine was going to be okay on his own. I'm so grateful -"

"I didn't do it for you," Dave interrupted. "It wasn't right … and I'm tired of these assholes getting to do this kind of shit." His voice dropped to a whisper, and he added, looking at his feet, "I can't undo anything in the past, but I was ready to do this."

Blaine looked at Kurt, then at Dave Karofsky, so glad that he'd been there. _True, he thought, I could have handled myself there, but it was still great that Dave had stepped up. _"You're a good guy, Dave."

"Trying to be," he replied, with a shy smile. Looking up and down the hallways, he added quietly, "I'm still not ready to come out, not here anyway."

"I get it," Blaine answered. "It's okay."

Dave grinned, looking down the hall towards the Cheerios' area. "They have no idea what they are fucking in for."

**A/N: All right, I'll confess, I had way too much fun writing part of that (guess which part). I had dropped tiny hints, by the way, but I don't expect that you'd recognize them unless you re-read (the latest one was when Christine came home and heard odd sounds in the basement, where Blaine was practicing just this type of fight sequence). Magician meets badass former Warbler – oh yeah!**

**By the way, I do understand that some readers may have had downright awful experiences with religious people, so might regard Michael's session with Rev. Johnathan with something less than liking. However, he's based on a real clergy person, and Gene Robinson, the out and proud bishop of my diocese, is a very cool guy to talk to, and not at all fictional (his "It Gets Better" piece really is a good one).**

**You know that I love to hear from you. What did you think of this last scene? Any thoughts on Blaine's talk with his mom? Thanks to all of you who've commented and encouraged me on this last chapter, especially Orange Coyote – I'm aware that writing about painful family dynamics can be hard on some readers, and hope I've done this one justice. DontdissmyCriss – you made me smile, and do catch up on your sleep! Tristan, Sopphires, RoseCriss, I'mJustDefyingGravityX3, msdarque, DapperGleek, and VisionPossible, thank you too for your observations and kind words, and for making my inbox a very friendly space. Till next time...**


	48. Chapter 48

**A/N: I don't own Glee, but I'm kind of proud of those that do – no spoilers here, but the latest episode (S4,Ep.3) was really good, I though! Anyways, nor do I own any other brands you might see here (just borrowing, for fun).**

Friday night, _finally_, Dave thought. He'd texted Sebastian a few times, and they'd talked on Tuesday, but it wasn't the same; he'd told him only scant details of Blaine's near-pounding (well, that's what he'd thought at the time), and Sebastian had been pleased.

What Dave didn't know was that Sebastian had called Blaine and Kurt to get the whole story. He'd cackled with laughter after hearing how Blaine had subdued Rick the Stick and his wingman Brian, making him tell it twice. Blaine told him what Dave hadn't so far, that Dave was still not coming out any time soon.

Dave met Sebastian at Oliver's, a restaurant half way to Westerville, for dinner. Sebastian had covered the space between them in the parking lot in a few quick strides, before meeting up with Dave and grabbing him in a tight hug. "Growly! Proud of you; I think this calls for a celebration."

Dave shifted uncomfortably, easing out of the embrace. "Uh, for what? I didn't do any- "

"We need to talk more about this, Bear Cub," Sebastian said smoothly as he gestured for a waiter to show them to a table. They were soon seated at a table in the back, across from each other, ignoring the menus in front of them. "I talked to them, you know; Kurt and Blaine." He watched the other boy's face, which didn't change. _Good. He's not upset that I did that. Not like I'm going to stop._ "Kurt had a better view of this than Blaine did, but he said it was pretty clear you were going to help him out, whatever he needed. That's pretty damn cool, if I do say so. I think I would have enjoyed the sight of you mopping the floor with that stupid ass, but I guess I'll just have to imagine it."

Dave smiled a little uncomfortably as 'Bastian told him this. It didn't upset him that he'd talked to Kurt and Blaine, something that not so long ago would have been different. Joking with them after Rick and Brian were off to Sue's office had been like a release: he knew firsthand that Sue's interrogation techniques were unbelievable, and he had no doubt they'd hesitate to repeat the attack they'd wanted to do. Having the first conversation with both Kurt and Blaine that didn't involve someone getting angry with him (or him at them, for that matter) had been a relief.

"Growly, the fact that you insist that you didn't really do anything somehow just makes it even better." Sebastian smiled a real smile at him this time, no smirk playing even at the edges. "Because your impulse was to _run_ to do what was right. To help Blaine, not Kurt. And to share a laugh about it after. My little bear cub is growing up on me!"

_Ah_, Dave thought, _and there it is_. The smirk, though not unkindly, was now dancing across 'Bastian's handsome face. He snorted and rolled his eyes, and finally smiled back. "What kind of celebration did you have in mind?"

"Well," the other boy said, now all business, passing him a menu, "dinner of course. On me. Of course! Then, we need to go dancing. So, keep it light."

"I don't dance, remember?"

"You think I'd forget, Growly? Fortunately, I believe you are teachable. Oh, and the mushroom and swiss burger here is incredible."

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Dave mused aloud. He did love watching 'Bastian dance – he was a great dancer, with lithe, fluid motion in every move, and the music seemed to bring out an extra dose of charm from him. Except that this charm wasn't focused solely on him; this boy was a tease, there was no doubt about that. Last time they'd gone, Dave had watched in fascination and then despair as Seb flirted with an older guy, drank too much, and had to be firmly escorted home. He wondered if he could get Sebastian to agree to any ground rules. "If I let you teach me, do you promise to let me tell you when you've had enough to drink?"

Sebastian looked into Dave's earnest eyes and smiled fondly at him. "I thought you'd never ask. About the teaching part, I mean! Maybe, on the other part. Maybe that'll give you the motivation to be a good student?" Leaning forward and dropping his voice to a purr, he added, "I can be a _very_ good teacher."

Dave shifted in his seat, as usual not knowing how to take Sebastian's teasing, and suddenly less interested in dinner.

"Hey, fellas, you know what you want yet, or do you need a few more minutes?" Their server asked, as she set down glasses of ice water.

"Mushroom swiss burger, with the caramelized onions, and iced tea, thanks." Sebastian flashed her a quick smile before returning his gaze to Dave.

"Um... I'll have what he's having," he murmured.

"Good choice," Sebastian affirmed. Raising his water glass, cocking his eyebrows at Dave, inviting him to do the same, he clinked the glasses together as he added. "May it be the first of many."

* * *

This Friday was free for all of them, as the first one in October, part of Columbus Day weekend, there was no game scheduled. Finn had proposed a video game marathon at his house, and invited Blaine. Kurt had rolled his eyes, but accepted that it was a great way to have Blaine over and get friendlier with the Glee guys.

"Blaine, can you come over early, to eat dinner?" Kurt asked the night before. "Dad and Carole said they'd love to have you; Rachel's coming too."

Blaine smiled a little nervously. Kurt had assured him Burt and Carole knew they were boyfriends, and were okay with that. Blaine knew they didn't know the depth of their commitment, but Kurt was so confident. His mother had been happy he'd be going and getting to know some of the McKinley kids better, and only insisted that he stop by the house before, to bring something to share. "Mom, we don't have to be so formal, it's just a family supper, and then the guys and a couple of their girlfriends are gonna hang around, play video games and stuff."

"Sweetie, I'm not sending you empty-handed; it's my custom."

He knew that tone; the one that meant resistance was futile. "You know you don't have to -"

"Blaine!" He looked at her; she was trying to look mad at him and failing (this same look would have fooled him every time when he was younger). "Maybe they'd like some Italian cookies from that bakery in Columbus..."

"Isn't that a long way … who's going to Columbus?" He asked suspiciously.

"Your father will be there on business, and he was going to stop by here after."

"Um, since when does he do _errands_? Buying bakery cookies?" His triangular brows furrowed, and he held back from making a Kurt-style comment. _Kurt_, he decided, _must be rubbing off on me, because I so want to do just that._

"Blaine." Her tone was soft now, pleading, and she motioned for him to sit beside her in the kitchen. "He wants to do right. I want to give him a chance to do that." She reached over and patted his forearm. "He was just going to stop by for a bit, but I won't hold you back from going to Kurt's." At his mystified expression, she added, "there's nothing to tell you, honey." Then, sitting up taller and pausing for a moment, she nodded no, and looked at him directly. "Well, I'm not sure that's exactly true. He told me, you know, that he hasn't taken his wedding ring off, and that he'd like to take more time before we do any more decision making or arbitration."

"Do you think this is a good -"

"I don't know!" She got up, flustered now. "But I'm willing to think about it. And I want you to be able to talk to him, honey." Seeing the closed-off expression that descended onto Blaine's face and how his posture stiffened, she decided to tell him. "He's been trying to learn more, to be able to really apologize to you, Blaine, and try to have a relationship with you." Her tone softened as she reached over to hold his hands in hers. "No matter what happens between Michael and me, I do want that for you. And I have a request for you, and I want you to listen closely."

Blaine swallowed, nodded, and managed to get out, "okay. What is it?"

"Give him a chance. Believe that he can change. Will you do that?"

"I'll try, mom. I promise I will, because you ask it."

She smiled in sympathy with her son, knowing how much he hated to say no to her. "Then it's settled, sweetie. You won't see him long before going to your dinner tomorrow; maybe that's not a bad thing."

Blaine smiled weakly, bobbing his head in agreement. "Do you think you can ask him to get extras of the chocolate dipped kind I like? I think Kurt would love those too."

"You got it, sweetie."

* * *

The next day, when Blaine got home from school he saw his father's car there. He was a little alarmed that his mother's wasn't, but his father was looking outside and had seen him pull in. Sighing in resignation, he decided to go in. He tried to summon his mother's hope, but didn't quite make it; he settled for feeling almost neutral; checked the mailbox before heading up the walkway to the door, and wondered if she'd be home soon.

"Blaine, hey, son," Michael called out, examining his son's appearance, and trying to cloak his disapproval. _What the hell? Since when did Blaine dress like that? _He took in the slicked hair, black jeans draped with – chains? – dark tee, with a trim fitting black leather jacket. Christine had warned him about Blaine's everyday wardrobe for school days, but he'd never seen his son like this.

Blaine smiled at his father, noticing his shock, and then noticing that no comment on his appearance followed it. "Hi, father, um, when did you get here?"

"Just a little while ago; your mother is on her way home now." _There_, the elder Anderson congratulated himself, _that sounds pretty neutral_. "But I wanted to talk to you a bit, anyway. Have a seat."

Blaine complied, unsure what to expect next. He was baffled by his father's friendly expression, by the fact that his appearance hadn't been picked on (yet), and that his father wanted to talk to him at all without his mother present. They both knew that family relations typically were smoother when she was around.

Michael regarded his son carefully, and his lawyer instincts kicked in. He knew he needed to try to win Blaine's trust before anything else, but also thought he'd need to start slowly. He'd already decided not to share just yet that Cooper had given him hell lately, yelling at him to get his shit together and learn how to accept his younger son before he lost him forever. He'd yelled back, of course, but in the end had to admit Coop had a point. He'd been truthful when he talked to the priest: he was aware of the hypocrisy of maintaining a tolerant workplace while at the same time he'd shown none of that to his son, and once he was aware of that, he couldn't un-think it.

He'd had two counseling sessions with Father Johnathan, and was surprised they were actually helping. He'd even done the homework the good reverend had assigned him, checking resources on the web. He felt he knew enough now to try to talk to his younger son.

"I got you some of those cookies you love, you know, the ones from Corsentino's," he said, flashing his most charming smile at Blaine, the one he'd passed a copy of to Cooper. "As a matter of fact, I got _two_ boxes, one for you to take to Kurt's house, and one for you and your mother for here. And I didn't forget to get extras of the chocolate dipped ones either."

"Um, wow, ah … thanks dad," Blaine stammered out. He hadn't told his mom this, but he'd expected his father to forget to do what she asked, the veteran of too many past disappointments. "That's really cool."

"You thought I'd forget," Michael made a face at his son, teasing him. "Admit it."

"Well, maybe," Blaine admitted, suddenly shy.

"It's okay. I deserve that. This Kurt fellow, does he have a real sweet tooth or something? It seems like all I do is buy him pastry."

Blaine let out a belly laugh, surprising them both. _His_ Kurt; Kurt who insisted on healthy foods whenever possible, Kurt who practically force-fed him fruit, Kurt, who bullied his own father into eating a model heart healthy diet … this was too funny. But true, he had to admit. Kurt adored really great cheesecake, and had a weakness for chocolate. He'd never have thought of it that way, but his father's gentle, unexpected teasing had left him laughing until he felt tears.

"That … is hilarious!" Blaine managed to blurt out.

"Well, they do say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, you know." Michael added quietly, and Blaine snapped to attention and faced his father. This was the last thing he expected to hear, and he waited for the attack he was sure was next.

"Your mother told me a little about him. Kurt. He sounds like a nice guy."

Blaine's mouth dropped open as he searched his father's face. He found no malice there, no threat. He looked around, and childishly wished his mother were home already, then chided himself for even thinking like that. "He is. He's really great, actually."

"I'm glad to hear that." He paused for a moment before continuing, carefully making eye contact with his son. "I've met with Father Johnathan twice now, and read some stuff. This isn't easy for me to do, Blaine." He walked over, and laid a hand on his son's shoulder. "I want to understand. I really do." He reached over, and put his hand under his son's chin to angle his face to see him better as he stood next to him. "I have so much to say I'm sorry for -"

"Father-"

"No, son. We both know I do." He squeezed his son's shoulder, then backed away to sit opposite him. "Look, you've got a fun night planned, and I'm going to catch a bite with your mother before I head home; we don't need to talk all this through right now. But, will you believe me when I say that I'm sorry, so sorry for so much – I was so awful to you, and there's nothing I can say that makes it right. Except to say that I'm sorry, and I want to get it right with you." Michael's eyes had started to tear up as he finished, his face full of pleading, and his whole body angled forward in Blaine's direction.

"I want that, so much." Blaine whispered, as his tears started to fall.

"I do love you, son. And I will work hard to make you know that."

"Oh dad," and Blaine crossed the space between them, and launched himself at his father.

Michael smiled as he held his son, in a way he hadn't in years, and was alarmed to feel more than hear sobs come from his son's body. Not trusting his voice now, he just held him tighter, and rocked him in his arms a bit, not even knowing he was doing it.

Christine let herself in, and was shocked to see her son enfolded in her husband's arms. Michael became aware of her first, and raised his head to give her a slightly watery smile.

Squeezing his son's back, Michael addressed him. "Well, your mother's home. I bet she'll be glad I got the extra cookies."

**A/N: Sorry I made you wait, dear readers! Thank you, reviewers, for your kind words and insightful feedback. There is no doubt that you motivate me, and also that you help shape this story. I hope to update again tonight.**

**I'd love your feedback, as you know; a lot of important character action going down here (some of it felt like heavy lifting). I look forward to hearing from you, and to writing more very soon. I'm going to catch up on my shoutouts with tomorrow's chapter; I'm out of time, and didn't want to hold off on posting this for you. Till next time!**


	49. Chapter 49

**A/N: Still don't own Glee. Hoping that after this week's episode I wouldn't want to disown it!**

Dave was still nervous about going to Scandals. True, this was his second time, so he was a little over the shock of it. But it made him nervous when Sebastian drank so much; he was worried for him, and wondered how he'd managed to go here alone and not get assaulted. He looked over at the confident boy who was driving beside him, and wondered what this meant to him.

He knew that he found Sebastian attractive. Hah! That didn't begin to cover it; 'Bastian was fucking hot! But he didn't know how to sort out his own feelings; did the fact that he found his friend hot mean he was falling for him? Was it just that, as 'Bastian himself had already told him so dismissively, he had no experience, and so was desperate for any guy who might reciprocate his interest in some way? He was still not over Hummel, not really; he would never admit how much he'd thought about him in the solitude of his room. But again, 'Bas was ready with an answer for that too: he needed experience, to broaden his world; and the fact that he really didn't know Kurt as a person (as Sebastian had so cruelly made him realize, when he couldn't answer even basic questions about his likes and dislikes) showed that it was a crush, no more.

And no less. Here he was, starting to admit that he found guys attractive, and he was faced with the painful realization that no one was checking _him_ out. He didn't blame them; he wasn't pretty, like Kurt or 'Bastian or even Blaine. _Is it still called an Old Maid if you're a guy,_ he found himself wondering. _How lame is it to wonder about this?_

Sebastian glanced over at Dave, changed the radio station (if they played that damn Katy Perry song one more time he was seriously considering writing a nastygram to the station manager), and frowned. They'd enjoyed dinner well enough, he thought. And he was sure Dave knew that he was proud of the progress he'd made, and that if it had come to it, he would have helped Blaine face the fucking homophobes who infested that ludicrous public school.

"Why so serious?" He tried to keep his tone light.

"Oh, I dunno. I mean, I'll try to dance a bit this time, but … I don't know."

He pulled into the Scandals parking lot. "Growly. Look at me."

Dave did as instructed, keeping his face as neutral as he could.

"Talk to me. We really don't have to go if you don't want to -"

"It's not that. Exactly." Dave's eyes drifted to his shoes.

Frowning, Sebastian reached out, and gently cupped the other boy's chin in his right hand, imploring him to look his way. Dave responded to the gentle touch, not expecting it but not wanting to fight it either. "Spill. I want to know. No bullshit, either. I won't have it," he finished, a playful tone creeping in.

"You'll think it's stupid," Dave muttered, closing his eyes this time.

"Probably. Tell me anyway."

Dave looked at him, took a deep breath, and blushed slightly. "I … I just don't know the point. You, you're _made_ for this place. You're a great dancer, you sing too, and well," he dropped his glance again, before finding his resolve and meeting Sebastian's gaze, "you're hot. Probably half the fucking place wants you! … And then there's me. I mean -"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, Growly." Sebastian's tone was firm, so Dave didn't continue. "You really _are_ a bear cub here, and you're right if you think you're inexperienced. But you're pretty hot in your own way, damn it. Believe me, there are definitely guys who'll want to hit on that, once you relax. You have nothing to worry about, I swear."

"You don't want me." Dave said it, and then couldn't believe he'd said it out loud.

"Oh? And you know this how, Growly? I'm not going to even answer that, but you've got to do a better job remembering what I tell you." Seeing the fogged look of the boy in front of him, he let out an exasperated sigh before continuing his thought. "I don't do relationships. I do sex. Which I do very, very well, by the way," he said, his smirk returning. "You, Growly, are my friend. I think you don't know how rare that is. Doesn't matter," he nodded dismissively. "I guarantee you I don't stay involved with the guys I fuck. Feelings don't go into that."

Sebastian wondered momentarily if he'd gone too far. He'd always warned Dave that he wanted their relationship as friends to be completely open and honest; none of this shit of trying to look good for each other: he wanted to know the good, bad, and the ugly about Dave, and he'd shared bits of that himself. After their fight at the McKinley game, Dave had been mindful of Seb's demands for no-holds-barred honesty. He'd even been surprised that, true to his word, nothing he'd confessed had ever really shocked or offended his experienced friend.

But Sebastian knew that Dave didn't see it that way; for all his appearance, Dave actually had the heart of a romantic. He wasn't kidding when he tried to assure him that once he met the right guy, someone would be over the moon for him: Dave was a bit messed up, sure, but at heart he was kind, decent, and could even be funny. And he was a great friend.

"All right, if you say so. I'll try. I'll even dance a little. Will you listen to me if I ask you to stop drinking?"

"You're on, Growly. Now, come on, let's have some fun, damn it."

* * *

Blaine pulled into Kurt's driveway. He mused that the house could only just contain all the activity in it, with all the cars accounted for and everyone home, plus a couple extra, there to hang with Finn. He grinned,_ it looks like every light in the place is on._ Such a contrast from his father's house in Westerville, which usually felt stiflingly quiet. He knocked on the door, and was almost instantly rewarded with an armful of Kurt. Holding the box with the red and white bakery ribbon aloft he happily returned the embrace.

Noticing the unusual one-armed hug Kurt lifted his face from where it had nestled into Blaine's neck. "What's that?"

"Oh, just something to share, for having me over for dinner."

"You know you don't have to do that," Kurt reminded him gently.

"Basic manners," Blaine answered, in his impression of an airy, dismissive Kurt-ism. Returning to his usual tone after noting Kurt's reception of his gentle mocking, "my mom. You know, she insists it's her culture, so it's mine too. You don't go to dinner empty handed. Ever."

"I love your mom," Kurt cooed. "What's in it?"

Blaine chuckled. "Italian bakery cookies, from this great place in Columbus. You'll love them." He followed Kurt towards the busy kitchen. "My father bought them, but it was my mother's idea." He smiled evilly before leaning in and whispering to Kurt, "he thinks you must have a real sweet tooth; this is the second time he's bought you pastry."

Blaine laughed as Kurt blushed crimson. "And you let him think that! What on earth do you suppose he thinks I look like!" he fussed, picturing the worst possible scenarios.

"Love, I know and you know it's a treat for you, not like you sit around stuffing yourself with twinkies are anything -"

"Not worth the calories!"

"- and that's exactly my point. Which is," and he punctuated this with a few gentle kisses, starting at Kurt's jaw and working his way up to whisper in Kurt's ear, "we both agree that you deserve the best pastries we can find." _Okay_, he thought, _maybe I'm stretching this a tiny bit, but hey._

Kurt smiled a crooked smile, and shook his head. "I am _so_ going to choose some before Finn and the guys get a hold of this."

"Get a hold of what?" Finn had materialized as they talked in the kitchen.

"Dessert, Finn. Traditionally eaten _after_ dinner. And we will not attack it like a bunch of neantherthals."

"Uh, cool, dude. Though, I'm like pretty sure just one wouldn't wreck my appetite or anything..."

"Finn!"

"All right, all right already. Later, dudes."

"You don't suppose I could try one now, while we get ready?" Kurt whispered, as Finn retreated.

Blaine smiled at his boyfriend's eagerness, and wondered if he didn't really have a serious sweet tooth after all. "Well, I did request extras of my favorite, which I'm guessing will be yours too. Maybe we can split just one."

They hadn't noticed that Burt and Carol could see and hear them from the doorway into the family room. Burt motioned for Carole to join him there, and when she did, he leaned over to her and said conspiratorially, "I think I like that boy."

She smiled fondly in the direction of the kitchen. "I know, he's so relaxed with him, like he feels free to really be himself."

"I wonder what's up with the cookies? They really do look great."

She drew him into a hug. "I'll make sure Kurt is distracted later so you can enjoy one or two in peace."

"My partner in crime. I love you. So much."

"Love you too. You're the best."

* * *

Dave hadn't stayed long on the dance floor. He'd tried, even 'Bastian had admitted this, but he felt ridiculous after a while, and had retreated to the bar. So far his friend was in control. He could have sworn when they were dancing 'Bas had actually flirted with him, but now he wasn't so sure; maybe that was just his default.

"One Mojito, and one for this cutie right here," a voice next to him called to the bartender over the techno dance music. "You don't mind if I buy you a drink, right? I'm Jeff."

Dave was startled, but took the hand proferred to him. "Yeah, sure. Thanks. Um, I'm Dave." The man to his left was maybe in his thirties, wearing a simple blue button down shirt and khakis. He looked like he was chronically slightly sunburned, with reddish hair just beginning to thin.

"Dave. You new here?"

"Sort of. I mean, I was here once before. I'm here with a friend," he added. _Lame. I am so lame_. He didn't know what to say.

"Boyfriend?"

"Nope." Sebastian had been clear enough on that.

Jeff smiled. "Me neither. That makes two of us, footloose and fancy free." He nodded to the bartender and accepted the drinks. "Here's to us, and good luck and all that."

"Uh, thanks?" Dave sipped the drink. He'd never had one of these, shit, he'd had practically no experience with drinking, and enjoyed the flavor more than he expected.

"Whoa, cowboy! That's not kool aid," Jeff smiled. He gestured for another for Dave. "My treat, looks like that one wasn't exactly big enough."

"These are _really_ good. Wow." He tried to remind himself to sip slower this time. Then he felt a hand and an arm alight onto his shoulders. "Tastes great."

Jeff smiled at the boy next to him. Newbie. Adorable. He massaged the firm biceps on the boy approvingly. "I know it does. Gee, you feel tight." Slipping to stand behind the boy, he placed both hands on his upper back, and started to caress the muscles in lazy circles. "Shush, it's all right, I just wanna help you loosen up. This feels good, right?"

Dave suddenly felt tingly all over. Was it the drinks (he'd now downed two of whatever-those-were, they were fucking delicious, as well as two beers before), or was it the man's hands, all over his back and shoulders. He stared straight ahead, and let Jeff do whatever, becoming a little alarmed when the older man's hands drifted to his waistband, caressing his hips. Then he felt arms come around him, with hands resting on his pecs, staying there to continue massaging him, as the man whispered in his ear, "let's go dance."

Sebastian noticed Dave get up a little unsteadily, and his eyes darted to the bar, where the bartender was just clearing several empty cocktail glasses away. _Shit_. Dave was being led onto the dance floor by a friendly looking man who clearly was calling the shots.

"Thirsty, babe?" the guy he'd been dancing and flirting with asked, seeing Sebastian's eyes on the bar. "Not a bad idea, honey."

"Not now, thanks." Sebastian surprised him, straightening up, and suddenly looking absolutely sober.

"Boyfriend troubles?" the man asked, sympathetically, seeing that his companion was now focused on watching someone on the dance floor.

This was met with a smirk. "Not exactly. But I think my bear cub friend might be getting in over his head."

"Oh." His eyes found where Sebastian's were riveted. "Hey, no offense. Let me know if you have any trouble. Jeff over there doesn't mean any harm, but he doesn't speak newbie too well, if you get my drift."

Sebastian looked at his dance partner a little closer. "Thanks for that. You're all right." He wondered if he'd wait until tomorrow to harass Dave for being the one to get stupid with drinks. _Nah. No time like the present, _he thought, preparing to cut in on Jeff and then take Dave for a drink. Of coffee.

**A/N: Thanks to my reviewers, you inspire and encourage me, bumping writing another chapter to the top of my to-do list (again). Who knew Sebastian would step in to defend Dave's virtue?**

**Shout-outs to: new readers, Kellyb (do catch up on your sleep, but I'm so glad you're enjoying); and klainebecks. Welcome aboard! Selibow, one of your promptlets made it here (klaine treats cuteness); VisionPossible, trekker, Sopphires, DumbHumanLikeYou, shorty, DancingintheRayne – I hope you're enjoying the Seb/Dave storyline. BlurtitallOut, don'tdissmycriss, I'mJustDefyingGravityX3, msdarque, rosecriss; sheshaPottergleek, kawaii01 as you can see, Michael is trying. Believe me, it's not in character for him to get things like the bakery errand right, so Christine and Blaine definitely see this for the symbolic act that it is: he's trying to be thoughtful.**

**Until next time! **


	50. Chapter 50

**A/N: Don't own Glee. As you know. And here is a dose of klaineness, with a side order of Dave and Sebastian, as ordered. Also, the guy in the bar named Jeff? No connection whatsoever to Warbler Jeff – I did not mean to confuse anyone. **

Rachel and Finn joined Kurt and Blaine in the kitchen. Kurt hurriedly hid evidence of his stolen, shared cookie (Blaine was right, the chocolate dipped one was incredible) and turned to greet his friend.

"Rach! What? Another guest bearing food?" He gave her a quick hug, and Blaine greeted her with a smile and shy, "hi".

"Kurt, my dads would have my head if I didn't bring something. Really." Rachel rolled her eyes and gestured with her free hand.

"See, exactly how my mom feels," Blaine added, nodding.

"So, uh, what is it?" Finn reached out to take the covered dish from her.

"It's my dad's special pumpkin dip, for later. You eat it with ginger snaps, or apple slices." Rachel beamed brightly, handing him a bag of ginger snap cookies to go with it.

"Sounds great. Maybe I can get the recipe." Kurt lifted the cover, eyeing the light orange, creamy dip, sprinkled with maple sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg. "Is that full fat cream cheese?" He frowned, considering trying it out.

"No. Dad said it's pretty healthy, Kurt; I'm sure it's okay if your dad tries it. Besides, it's got pumpkin, that's healthy, right? And it he eats it with apple slices instead of cookies it should be fine."

"You do know I can eat like a human being, right?" Kurt jumped, and Burt chuckled, having managed to sneak up on his son. "Give me a break, Kurt. Hi, Rachel," he smiled at her, "glad you could make it. Kurt, can you help Carole finish up getting supper on the table?"

"Sure, dad."

"Good. Blaine, come with me for a minute, okay?"

Blaine shot a glance at his boyfriend, who smiled encouragingly and lifted his brows slightly, as if to say, _oh, go on_. "Of course, Mr. Hummel."

Burt sighed. "Burt, kid. Call me Burt."

Following him down the hall to the back porch, Blaine hurried to agree. "Right, sir, ah, Burt!" Suddenly his legs felt leaden, and he looked down at his outfit. He was glad he'd changed, though of course Burt had seen him in his McKinley outfits. He rubbed his hands nervously on his black skinnies, and straightened out his wine colored sweater vest for the tenth time since he'd arrived. _How did my hands get so damned gross and sweaty?_

"Have a seat, Blaine."

"Thank you." He smiled at Burt, and tried to remember what performance mode felt like, but it wasn't there. He knew a good bit about Burt, since Kurt had talked about him a lot. He wished he didn't feel nervous.

Burt studied the boy in front of him, smiling nervously, with absolutely perfect posture. His outfit tonight wasn't his usual school look, which was a nice change. He'd noticed that in all the times he'd seen him, whether at the hospital, or school, or at Apple Fest, he was the same despite whatever he was wearing: well-mannered, respectful, and attentive to Kurt. About that …

"Kid, don't worry, I'm not gonna shoot you out here. Kurt would kill me." He laughed a little, trying to lighten the mood. Blaine chuckled a little, looking like he was trying to be polite.

Burt sighed. Kid was too scared to hold up his end of the conversation, he could see that. He decided to talk to him in a way Kurt probably would approve of: referencing his own son's interests, that he knew Blaine shared. He knew a surprising amount of Blaine trivia, come to think of it; Kurt had never lost his little boy habit of chattering on to his dad about whatever he was most excited about, and for the past month he'd chattered about Blaine a lot. _I've got this_, he thought.

"You know, I haven't lived with Kurt all this time without learning something about fashion." Burt noticed Blaine's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. _Someday_, he thought, _I'll have to tell him how hard it was not to laugh. _"Well, it does kind of go both ways, you know: Kurt knows more about football than he lets on."

Blaine nodded, not so sure Burt was right about that, but whatever.

"Okay, so I've noticed your appearance. Or, should I say, appearances – what with school, being a magician, and tonight. You remember when I met you for the first time?"

"Yes, of course." Blaine had no idea why he'd bring that up; he'd been waiting for his hand to get stitched up, while Kurt's leg was being taken care of. They hadn't talked long, but Burt had been eager to come find him, and thank him for helping Kurt.

"I didn't give a damn that you were wearing black goth clothes and chains and all that; all I cared about was that you'd helped Kurt, and stayed with him to make sure he was okay. You didn't even know him then, right?"

"No, not really, sir."

"Burt, kid."

"Right. Burt," he amended, sheepishly.

"And I saw you after that, in your goth outfits, and I noticed what _wasn't_ there." He smiled at Blaine's puzzled expression. "Accessories, kiddo. Fashionista son, remember? So, you didn't have weird piercings, none at all that I can see. Oh, and if you have them where I can't, just leave me in the dark, all right?"

Blaine laughed, easing up a little. "There aren't any."

"Okay. No tatts either. And you're clean; believe me, I know what a guy who smokes or does weed smells like. And you're in tough classes, in with Mike Chang. So, this tells me something: you're not some tough kid, you just dressed like one. My son, however, has taught me that clothes are always about communication. I would have said different, years ago, but I guess I see his point. Mine are pretty simple, not hard to read: working guy, style hasn't changed in forever, reasonably neat but not in it for the fashion. Your look said 'don't mess with me', and I guess your actions said it too."

Blaine stared at Burt in shock. He felt naked, being decoded in this way, but Burt was totally right.

"Kid, I think you'd been bullied too, and this was your defense. That, and the public boxing workouts right in view in the gym, and your 'keep away' attitude all add up. I don't blame you one bit. Like I said, though, Kurt talks about you. A lot; probably more than he even realizes. There's a couple of things I want to get straight."

Blaine swallowed nervously. Burt clearly knew they were dating, and was always friendly. Kurt probably hadn't told him everything, though.

"Kurt is everything to me, kid. Until Carole, he was all I had, for so many years. And I've seen him get hurt, how people didn't treat him good at school. He always tries to cover it up, but I know more than he thinks I know. Tell me, where does it stand with you two?"

Blaine looked at Burt directly. "I would never, ever hurt Kurt. He's so amazing, I think he doesn't even realize how much, and he makes me see the world in a better way and -"

"I got it! Okay, so you two are going out, right?"

Blaine nodded.

"All right. I see how much you care about him, and I think if I didn't cut you off, you would have rambled on about him the way he does about _you_. I'm happy for Kurt – he's never been so happy, as he's been the past few weeks, and I know it's because of you." He smiled, knowing just from looking that whether Kurt had said it or not, his boy clearly was in love. "You boys are, um, careful, um, I mean, you know I'm happy you've found each other, but ..." _How to say this? There were too many people out there who'd attack them if they were affectionate in public, sad to say. _"Look, I'm glad for you both, but in public..."

"Sir … I mean, Burt, I would never want to put Kurt in danger. Um, we don't even hold hands in public usually."

"That really sucks, son, that you'd have to think like that, but yes, that's something I can't help but worry about." He paused, and exhaled before gazing at Blaine with a sad smile, and caring eyes. "You're both smart guys, that's good. You're safe here, all right? You can hold hands at supper, or give a quick peck on the cheek or something with family, just like Finn could with Rachel." Blaine looked relieved, and his posture relaxed a bit.

"The other thing I wanted to say is, I do worry about you, Blaine. I know you felt alone when you transferred to McKinley. But now you've got the Glee club, football, and of course Kurt. And Kurt told me all about how you and Coach Beiste talked to the school board, to get gay bashing to be penalized as a hate crime. That's serious stuff, and will make that school a safer place – you should be proud of that. So, what I want to say is, if the bad boy goth look isn't really you, maybe you should dress the way you really feel _is_ you. You're not alone, Blaine. Not anymore."

"I'll... I'll think about it, sir. And thank you." Blaine still felt kind of stunned, but warmed too, by the obvious care Burt was expressing for him.

"Of course, it's all right. Look at how Kurt dresses – I mean, in the end, do what you want." Burt laughed a little. "To be honest, in the beginning, I never did think it was such a bad thing that a tough guy was looking out for my son." Rising to his feet, he gestured for Blaine to do the same. "All right, kid, we better head in before Kurt comes after me, wondering what I've done to you."

* * *

"Why're we leaving? I thought you wanted me to get out and dance?" Dave's words were a little slurred, as he followed Sebastian out to his car.

"Get in," the taller boy commanded. Dave shrugged, did as he was told, and fumbled to get his seat belt on. Sebastian pinched the top of his nose, a sudden headache making its unwelcome presence known. He'd only had one drink, so had no misgivings about driving.

"We going to another club?" Dave asked, noticing as the car moved that he felt unsteady. _Damn, I am not about to admit to you that I'm glad you pulled me away from that guy,_ he thought rebelliously.

"Growly, we're going for coffee."

"I don't drink coffee," he mumbled sourly.

"You're going to tonight. Try something new. Not like you were shy about trying Mojitos for the first time," 'Bastian spat out more acidly than he'd intended.

"You're mad at me," Dave mumbled to his feet, remembering how thrilling yet terrifying it had felt to feel himself getting drunk, the older guy's hands all over his back and arms at the bar, and then on the dance floor, before Sebastian yanked him away.

Sebastian frowned over at Dave, and muttered, "Maybe. I'm madder at myself. Why would I think you could handle that?"

All inhibition gone, Dave leaned over, placing a hand on 'Bas' right shoulder, and whispered, "but he liked me, I think. No one's ever, well no guy I mean, has ever ..." he trailed off, sadly. "You don't want me, 'Bastian," and Dave's eyes filled with tears, "and Kurt sure as hell doesn't want me, and," he sniffled, "fuck – that guy, what was his name? Well, he kind of liked me, but I was kind of scared too –"

"Growly! Enough." And he pulled over. "You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying. I don't know what you'd even remember if I told you anything, so I'm not going to bother. But I know you. You don't want that." He looked over at Dave, who was now trying to hide the fact that he was crying. _Shit. How did I fuck up this badly?_ "Let's go for coffee, all right, and maybe we'll go for a walk. You need to clear your head."

Dave nodded, miserably swiping at his nose and eyes, and accepting the tissues that Sebastian wordlessly passed to him. "I'll try some coffee, 'Bas, if you won't be mad at me."

He couldn't help but smile at Dave, with his forlorn tone, who obviously wanted to do whatever he could to avoid his disapproval. He reached over and hugged him around the shoulders. "We'll start you off easy, Growly, maybe a nice latte with caramel. I'll teach you to love coffee yet." _Baby steps. I'm a hopeless idiot. Why can I figure out coffee and then do other things so wrong?_

* * *

Blaine was back on the screened-in back porch where only hours ago he'd had his talk with Burt, this time with Kurt cuddled up with him on the cushiony loveseat, the light of several candles playing across their faces.

"I can't believe he said all that!" Kurt exclaimed, yet again. "I really was going to come after him if he hadn't appeared when he did, I mean really."

Blaine chuckled at Kurt's dramatic gestures, not doubting that he would have done just that. He loved the father-son dynamic those two had; Kurt controlled Burt as much as he could, but in the end it was clear that Burt really did rule the household.

"I think maybe we should go shopping." Kurt said brightly.

"Really, Kurt? Out of all that, that's what you're hearing?" he teased him, before reaching his hand up his spine and tickling the nape of his neck while he reached in to kiss just below his ear. "Somehow, that wasn't the most important thing _I_ heard."

Kurt huffed cutely, as Blaine moved on to teasing little kisses along his neck. "Well, I already knew I could hold your hand, or give you a hug or a little kiss in my own home." Blaine marveled at how comfortable his boyfriend really was in his home environment, and how the permission Burt had given him (so meaningful to him) was something Kurt took for granted.

Kurt responded to Blaine's caresses, drawing him close for a kiss. His breath tripped, as he experienced again the amazing feeling of those wonderful lips all over his, and he opened his mouth, licking at Blaine's lips, which responded by inviting him in, then became lost in the sensation of the dance their tongues gently played out. Kurt felt like his heart was hammering inside his chest, and he felt his breathing become disorganized as kissing and holding this beautiful boy became life itself. When the demands for oxygen reminded him to pull apart for a moment to breathe deeper, he whispered, "I love you, so much."

Feeling the smiling lips against his own, his eyes still closed, breathing in, tasting, and holding the boy he loved, Blaine answered back dreamily, "I love you more."

"Not possible." Kurt murmured, before attacking Blaine, intent on kissing him absolutely senseless.

**A/N: And... time's up. Really. But I want to post this, as I promised to do. Shout-outs tomorrow, my friends. You know I always enjoy hearing from you, if you'd like to leave me a review or PM.**


	51. Chapter 51

**A/N: So sorry it's been as long as it has been; I started a new story based on the events of Season 4, episode 4 (don't look at me like that, Kurt, I am _not_ cheating!); so, those of you who might want to take a look, check it out, I'd love to have your thoughts, and hope you enjoy it. The title is Don't Tell Me 'Cause It Hurts (probably easiest to find by clicking on my name to get my story list).**

**And, no, I don't own Glee, or any songs or products you see here; just borrowing!**

He hit 'play', deciding to listen to the message he'd avoided earlier. "'Bastian? Um … I guess you're busy or something right now... ah... I just wanted to say thanks for getting me home and all … um... can you call me later? Okay. Bye."

_What the hell was he thinking last night? _Sebastian moped, mad at himself for not seeing that letting Dave get drunk and groped at Scandals (and probably in way deeper than that if he hadn't dragged him away) wasn't a good idea. A couple of coffees later, followed by a brisk walk in the cold autumn air, and he'd dropped him off at home. He was still haunted by some of what Dave had said, when all his defenses were down.

"_You're mad at me," _and _"No one's ever, well no guy I mean, has ever ..."_; Dave had shown that his opinion really mattered to him (he'd known that), and that he was convinced he was unattractive to other men. Not only that, but Dave had revealed (probably only because he was drunk) how sad it made him that he didn't like him that way. _Merde_. Sober Dave appeared to get it, when he'd explained more than once that he didn't do relationships, he did sex. And that, at least for now, sex and friendship were areas that didn't cross. Drunk Dave pined for him like a spurned teenage girl, turning then to anyone who would give him a second look. _How did this get so fucked up?_

He didn't know, and wasn't one for process much; he was going to handle whatever it was right now. He texted, and waited. **Growly, call me whenever, I'm here now.**

Dave smiled at his phone. Hard as Sebastian could be to read at times, he was starting to figure him out a little. The use of either of his pet names usually was a good sign, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't remember all the details of last night, but what he did recall was pretty horrific: the very friendly guy who bought him the delicious drinks (what was his name, anyway?) followed by the very physical flirtations from this guy, who then dragged him onto the dance floor, where he made his attentions known in a way he couldn't mistake, even drunk. But, as usual, Sebastian had been right; in that moment, he'd thought he wanted what looked like was going to happen, but sober that wasn't his style, and he would have regretted it. He wanted someone to want him, no question. But, just like Seb had pointed out to him, he wanted affection, a relationship, romance even; and a random hookup would have left him with either self loathing or an awkward phase of trying to get the other guy to deepen the contact, on an emotional level this time, when that wasn't mutually desired. Horrible.

"Hey, Growly." Sebastian had picked up after one ring.

"Hey, 'Bas. Um, sorry about last night."

"No, listen to me. I made a mistake. That scene doesn't work for you, and I put you in jeopardy. I won't do that again."

Dave was silenced by the other boy's commanding, final tone. "Don't you think that's a bit harsh?"

"No, Growly, I don't. And, since I don't love having to do the apologizing thing, I don't want to do things that lead to a repeat performance. Get it?"

Dave smiled, hearing, even if he couldn't see it, that his friend's smirk was back, and that he really didn't want to sit around all day and analyze it. This was, he realized, one of the things he loved about 'Bastian. He smiled back. "Got it. Hey, 'Bas?"

"Yeah?"

"I kind of liked the coffee I had, whatever kind it was."

Sebastian chuckled. "You think? You had two of them. Told you. Next time you should listen to me."

"Promise. Can we go for coffee soon?" He didn't like thinking about the fact that they really didn't live all that close, but it was reality.

"Count on it. Next weekend? We've got some crazy music room reorganization to do for the Warblers... I think I might make you earn it."

"You're on." He'd never been to Dalton, and was mildly surprised that 'Bas wanted to introduce him to that part of his life, even if only tangentially. "I don't have to like, wear a blazer or anything?"

"To move furniture and junk? Nah, I think not. And, Dave?"

"Yeah?"

"It's not like you think. There's lots of guys that'll want you, you know. Be patient, bear cub."

"Thanks, 'Bas. I'll try to remember. Um … we're cool, right?"

Sebastian sighed, and wished the other boy could see his facial expressions. "Growly, I'm talking to you right now, what do you think?"

"Good point. Hey, 'Bas?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. You're a good friend."

"Which is why I won't feel too bad about working you like a slave on Saturday. With coffee. And maybe pizza after," he said, his tone now frankly teasing.

"Bring it. Bye, 'Bas."

"Later, Growly."


	52. Chapter 52

**A/N: Still don't own Glee (property of Ryan Murphy and Fox etc.) or any songs or products you see here. **

Blaine headed to Glee practice, eager to see Kurt again (even though they'd been together just a while ago, at lunch). Today, in all the home rooms the new anti-bullying rules had been spelled out. Each student was going home with a signed contract they'd had to complete, with a section for a parent to sign off on that had an explanation of the new rules, including penalties for hate crimes. There had been the usual grumbling (it was widely acknowledged that the best use of the 20 minute home period was for either napping or last minute homework) but the message was clear. He was feeling optimistic, and his sunny smile was at odds with his usual dark outfit.

"There you are," Kurt cooed, as Blaine slid into the seat behind him.

"Hey, beautiful," he whispered in Kurt's ear, and leaned back to enjoy watching Kurt's slight pink flush.

Mr. Schue strode into the room, whiteboard marker in hand. He nodded to the Glee club members, who were settling into their places, and wrote on the board one word: HELP.

"Mr. Schue?" Mercedes tone was worried. Had their teacher finally lost it?

"Yeah, Mr. Schue, are you okay?" Finn spoke at the same time, amidst general murmuring. Rachel just looked puzzled, trying to figure out the theme of the homework.

"Beatles assignment?" she guessed out loud.

"Not exactly." The teacher grinned at the students, enjoying their confusion for a bit. "Since we're in great shape for Sectionals" and he smiled at Tina and Artie before going on, "I was wondering if you would help me. The Spanish Club is hosting a Dia de Los Muertos party, and I'd love for there to be some great music. And it could be a lot of fun."

He was met with mostly blank stares, so he gestured and smiled encouragingly at Santana. "Would you like to tell them?"

"I've _so_ got this, Mr. Schue. My abuela told me all about it when I was a little girl, when I was sad that my gerbil had died. Don't laugh," her expression suddenly turned fierce for a moment. "It was right around this time of year. She told me back in Mexico we have a special day to celebrate and remember our loved ones who have died. And that we are so much smarter than those silly gringos who fear their dead; no, we believe their spirits live on and love us, and we party with them, every year on Dia de los Muertos, the day after Halloween. We put special Mexican orange marigolds on the graves, and get special candies shaped like bones or decorated skulls, and we visit and sometimes picnic there. She suggested for Pinky, my gerbil, we put some of her favorite seeds instead."

"Wow," Kurt breathed. This was so different from what he was used to. Santana also seemed, in that moment, so proud of her heritage.

"Right. People also tell stories, especially funny ones, about those who've died, and talk to the graves. It kind of looks like Halloween, with the skulls and bones and orange flowers, but it's not the same at all. Will you help me?"

"Mr. Schue, of course we'd love to help, but I don't know how that fits in with our talents." Rachel cut right to it, of course.

Artie spoke up next. "I think I've got this. You want music in the spirit of the day, right? I mean, it doesn't have to be in Spanish, right?"

"No, this is more to teach the meaning and spirit of the festival. We're hoping for a good turnout. Shall we put it to a vote?" He saw lots of nodding. "All in favor?"

"Will there be candy for us?" Brittany hesitated, before raising her hand.

"Absolutely. Authentic candy, special for the day!" he assured her. "So, all in favor?" His heart warmed, as everyone voted to help out.

* * *

"That's going to be a pretty interesting party," Blaine commented, as he walked Kurt and Finn to Kurt's Navigator.

"I'll say. The decorations will be fun; it looks like we could get away with some standard Halloween stuff, which should make it cheaper." Kurt agreed.

"With you designing it, how could we fail?" He smiled at his boyfriend, who'd had a field day using Mr. Schue's laptop, researching traditional celebrations to get an idea for the look. Their teacher hadn't expected any help from the Glee club in decorating, but had been eager to accept Kurt's help once he offered it. Santana had insisted on helping too, joined immediately by Brittany (who was pleased by the amount of glitter involved in traditional decorations).

Finn frowned a little at his soon to be sort-of brother. He could be kind of cute, the way he got enthusiastic about stuff, but he couldn't help but wonder if he was getting in over his head. He decided not to tackle that just now. "We still need a set list, even if it's short. Any ideas?"

"I've got a few. Maybe we could see what people come up with next meeting?" Blaine asked. He didn't want to overstep, but his head was already starting to buzz with possibilities.

* * *

Two nights later, Blaine sat down to dinner with his mother. He was eager to start on the spaghetti and meatballs, as she placed a salad beside each of their plates.

"Blaine, sweetie, I have to ask you something."

He looked at her in mild surprise, not knowing what to expect. "Um, all right mom. What's up?"

"Have you thought about going back to Dalton?"

"No. I mean, yes, I thought about it, and I'm not leaving. Why?"

"Well... what if things worked out, you know, with your father and I?"

"Wait, what?" He dropped his fork to the table. "What are you saying?"

"Nothing yet, honey. But, he's trying. He wants to slow things down with the divorce, and I agreed to that, for now. He's also insisted on helping pay for this house, so finances won't be tight." She frowned a little, seeing the skeptical look her son's face wore. "No matter what happens, I think at a minimum he wants things to be civilized, fair. And he wants you to want to see him."

Blaine shook his head. Not trusting his father was so easy to do; letting him back in seemed so hard. But he noticed his mother seemed less stressed recently, so maybe this really was a good thing. And his father did seem genuine in his apology for how he'd treated his son, and had even said he'd wanted to meet Kurt some time. He smiled over at his mother: he wanted her happy. Maybe his father could do it this time; he didn't know. "All right, mom, I'm glad you're not fighting with him anymore. But I really don't want to leave McKinley."

"Okay. I won't pressure you, sweetie." She sighed. She didn't anticipate running back to him right away, and she didn't want to think of any more complications tonight. For now, she was just glad that she could talk about Michael without Blaine looking wounded or angry. She had to admit, she was starting to look forward to her meetings with him, that she missed him.

* * *

"Come on, come on, pick up!" Blaine commanded the phone in his hand. On the fourth ring, his brother finally answered.

"Hey, Squirt."

Blaine rolled his eyes, uselessly. "Hey, Coop. Could you not call me that?"

"You called me to say that, little bro?" Coop's tone was light, teasing. He suspected what was coming, though.

"Of course. No, idiot, I called to ask my brother for advice."

"You all right, Blainers?"

Blaine sighed heavily. "I don't know. Mom's hinting that she might get back with father."

"I'd kind of heard about that."

"From whom?"

Cooper chuckled at his brother's very proper grammar. "Dad. I think he's pretty serious. What's on your mind?"

"I don't know, I mean, I guess I shouldn't tell mom what to do, but I'm afraid for her. And he's been … well, he's been really nice to me, all of a sudden."

Cooper held the phone out for a moment, brows furrowed. Blaine sounded upset about this. "Help me out here. This is bad why?" Blaine didn't know, and he wouldn't tell him this, but he'd yelled at his father, telling him to get his fucking act together and salvage his relationship with his son before it was too late; that it was too fucking stupid, to run a law firm that celebrated diversity in the workplace while he was still treating his gay son like he was at best misguided, or at worst, mentally afflicted.

"Coop … does he really care about me, or is he just trying to mess with mom's head?"

There it was. He flinched at the hurt tone in his brother's voice, how unsure he was that his father could love him on any terms. He had to squelch this right away. "Listen, Blaine. There are two separate issues going on here, but I'm telling you, don't think like that. Whatever else happens with him and Christine, he really does want to fix things with you. He loves you, in his own messed up way."

"How do you know that?"

Could Blaine's voice sound any smaller? Cooper found himself frustrated with his father, hating how lost Blaine sounded. "Easy. He told me. He asked me what to do, to try to make it right with you." Okay, that's a little bit of a lie, but close to the truth, once he'd yelled at his father after Christine moved out and Blaine sounded like he'd be happy never to talk to Michael again. He'd spelled out for the senior Anderson how pathetic the older guys he'd seen in California could be, with their young trophy wives, and adult children who wouldn't give them the time of day. He hadn't hesitated to remind him that Christine was different, and worth fighting for; that even though she wasn't his mother, she'd been more of a mom to him than his own mother had been, in many ways. "People can change, and learn. Squirt, try to trust him a little. I guarantee he's not trying to win you back just to make nice with her."

"Coop?"

"Yeah, little bro?"

"Is it scary that you actually make sense sometimes?"

Cooper smiled; he sounded better, and was back to his usual teasing tone in their brotherly chats. "Probably. Definitely. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't listen to me. I mean, I am your big brother."

"Yup, you do remind me of that, from time to time."

"So, are you going to introduce him to Kurt?"

"You know about that?"

"Well, are you?"

"Maybe. You think?"

Cooper looked at his watch. Damn, he had to go. "I do. Live a little! Make sure he takes you somewhere good, he owes you. He'll behave. I told him I'd kill him if he didn't. Anything else on your mind, 'cause I gotta go soon ..."

"Um, no. I guess not. Hey, Coop?"

"Yeah, little bro?"

"You're a goofball, but thanks. I love you."

"Love you too, squirt. Later!"

* * *

Christine came home to the sound of her son's pounding workout noises from downstairs. I hope he's all right, she thought. Cooper had talked to her, telling her of Blaine's doubts and worries. She ached for him; he wanted so badly to be loved, she knew he wanted to accept Michael back into his heart, but her son had not recovered yet from the rejections that had added up over the years. She was interrupted by the sound of a knock at the front door.

"Michael! I didn't expect you here tonight. Is everything okay?"

He was smiling at her, holding a huge potted yellow mum plant for her. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." She smiled, and made way for him.

"I remember you always liked to plant these, around this time of year."

"They're beautiful. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

He reached for her hands, and indicated with his eyes that he'd like to sit in the living room. "Maybe I can take a page from Blaine's book," and he put a cassette on to play, then started to sing to her, along with the accompaniment.

_The day I first met you, you told me you'd never fall in love_

_ But now that I get you, I know fear is what it really was_

_ Now here we are, so close, yet so far, haven't I passed the test?_

_ When will you realize … that baby, I'm not like the rest!_

_ Don't want to break your heart, wanna give your heart a break_

_ I know you're scared it's wrong, like you might make a mistake_

_ There's just one life to live, and there's no time to waste_

_ So let me give your heart a break, give your heart a break …_

Christine had expected anything but this. He hadn't sung to her in years, and she didn't realize how much she'd missed his voice, so like her son's. He went on singing to her, and she felt her heart melt, then joined him, harmonizing on the chorus. Then they sung together, to each other.

_The world is ours, if we want it, we can take it_

_ If you just take my hand..._

Blaine paused, hearing music from the living room. He crept up the stairs, and listened at the cellar door, astonished that this was live singing he was hearing. His parents. He'd never heard them like this; he knew his mom, like him, tended to sing snatches of song all the time, and could sing beautifully when she put her mind to it, but had to reach much further back to recall that his father could sing at all. He knew the song, and opened the door quietly, to see his father on his knees before his mother, who was crying as she finished the duet with him. He closed the door again, feeling that the moment was too intimate, and retreated downstairs again.

"Michael ..."

"Christine, I will never stop being sorry for what I did. I was incredibly stupid. But I love you; I miss you so much. I want to make you happy, I want you back, and I never want you to have reason to doubt my love, ever again."

"I … I'll try. I want to forgive you, you know." She reached forward, and gently kissed his forehead. "I've always known you were an idiot." She smiled a mocking smile at his hopeful face. "I'm not saying no; I just can't say yes yet."

"That's all I need to hear." He flashed her a brilliant smile, then his expression became serious. "Chris? Can I kiss you?"

"Am I going to hate myself in the morning?" she teased him.

"Probably. Evading the question much?"

"You blame me? Stupid man." And she answered him by closing the gap between them, kissing him on the lips. His arms reached out to fold her into a warm embrace, and they discovered again how much they'd loved kissing each other.

"To ever get away from this? I have to agree." He sighed, looking into her eyes as they parted.

"I'm always right you know."

"Yes. I know."

"There just might be hope for you, you know." She swatted his arm playfully.

"I'm hoping so." He meant it, she could tell.

* * *

"Kurt, are you free for dinner tomorrow night?"

"Thursday? What's the occasion?"

"Well," Blaine drawled, "it's not Friday, so no game tying us up; oh, and my father wants to meet you."

"_What_? You told him yes, are you sure? I thought you said he didn't approve -"

"Kurt! Breathe!"

He did as Blaine asked, then asked him, "at your house?"

"No, he wants to take us out to eat."

"Breadstix?"

Blaine laughed. He knew his father loved to go out to eat as a peace offering, and Breadstix wouldn't cut it. "Hmm... you're getting warm. It's Italian … Allessandro's."

Blaine had to hold the phone away from his ear at Kurt's joyous shriek. "Yes! Totally! Dad brought me there to celebrate my birthday once, we went for lunch, dinner there is a lot more expensive, and it was so incredible -"

"You're so adorable," Blaine butted in.

"What?"

"When you get all excited and babble like that. It's cute," he crooned. "So, I take it that's a yes?"

"But that's just tomorrow! What am I going to wear?"

"Kurt," Blaine laughed. "You, of all people, do not really have a problem in that area. Remember, it's just a weeknight dinner. Nothing too fancy."

"You're right. I'm not the problem here."

"Hmmm?"

"Blaine. I'll be over in 20. We're going shopping. For you." And he hung up.

Blaine stared in stunned silence at the phone in his hand, then broke into a smile. "Mom?" he yelled from his room. "That's a yes."

**A/N: Thanks so much, all of you following and reviewing (or just reading, that's okay too). Hearing from you, and getting your input, really does motivate me, and more often than you'd think helps guide my story. Lots going on this chapter; I'd love to hear your thoughts (and I can guess which ones will provoke comments, let's see if I'm right). Also, I do have another story going currently, a season 4 fic. Just saying!**

**Dear reviewers, as you know I answer you all individually, and don't want to make this note go on and on. Know that I love hearing from all of you, and feel as I hear from some of you so often that we share coffees at a virtual Lima Bean.**


	53. Chapter 53

**A/N: I don't own Glee, or any songs or products you see here. Sorry I didn't mention it in the last A/N, but the song Michael sang to Christine in the last chapter was Demi Lovato's Give Your Heart a Break.**

Before hurrying over to Blaine's house, Kurt called Mercedes. _I am so going to need backup_, he fretted. His face broke into a relieved grin when she answered.

"Hey, white boy. What's up?"

"'Cedes, I'm so glad you picked up. I need you. Fashion intervention, STAT. Can I count on you?"

She giggled before answering. "You finally corner Berry or something? I am _so_ in."

He laughed back a little."Keep dreaming. No, it's Blaine. We're going to dinner tomorrow … look, _no time_. Are you in?"

"Relax. I can do that for a bit. Hey, wanna say hello to Artie?"

"Is he there?" He didn't want to exclude Artie, necessarily, but he hadn't thought of him when it came to this trip. He'd seen him talking to Blaine at school sometimes, about their science classes, or later on about the folk songs. Blaine liked Artie, and maybe it would be good to have him along.

Mercedes nodded, and answered, "We were looking at music for Mr. Schue's thing, but I guess I can talk him into it -"

"OK." He waited, then addressed Artie as he picked up. "You don't mind coming, I hope? I think Blaine would like to have you there."

"Nah, should be fun. I was done doing homework, and the music can chill for a while." Kurt appreciated the boy's relaxed tone, and thought that while he hadn't planned it, maybe Artie would indeed provide good feedback. He knew Blaine was a little nervous about it, and Artie was kind, and calming.

Kurt gave them the meeting place and time, thanked them, and sped off to Blaine's.

* * *

"Kurt, you are sure this is necessary?" Blaine frowned at his closet, which looked ransacked, and over to his bed, which was full of clothes.

"Blaine, some of these might have been okay, but seriously, when was the last time you weeded? These," and he pointed to a pile, "I am pretty sure wouldn't even fit you."

Blaine frowned at the disarray. "Well, at Dalton I wore the uniforms, and their athletic wear. I've still got plenty of those." He pointed to the Dalton hoodies, track pants, and rugby shirts, neatly folded, on shelves in the closet. "I was there two years, remember. My stuff from before that mom gave away a long time ago; I grew out of it. And then there's my McKinley stuff," he pointed to that pile, which was much bigger, "but mom hinted she didn't want that look at Allessandro's."

Kurt gave him a full-on bitch glare. "Hence, the fashion emergency. Hey, your father's paying, you've got moi for advice, and Mercedes and Artie said they'd meet us. We can go for ice cream after." He giggled a bit, losing his stern demeanor, wondering if Blaine would see that last bit the way he did, like a bribe you'd use to drag a kid in for shots.

"Kurrrrtt..." Blaine whined, looking exactly like a reluctant child.

"Blaine." Kurt answered, but switched to a much softer tone. "Sweetie, I don't want to dress you as me. I want you to look great, wearing a style that's you. This," and his sweeping arm encompassed the entire room's contents, "doesn't. Dalton stuff? I can see why you like it, for what it means to you, but _no_. Walking Hot Topic ad stuff?" He wrinkled his nose, pointing to the mostly black piles. "I don't deny you rock that look, but really? I don't think it's _you_, exactly. Your Armani suit? Delightful, but you're the one who told me not to go full-on formal. You leave me with no choice – what am I supposed to work with here?" He'd tried for a humerous-sounding fashionista tone, especially for the last thing he'd said, but Blaine didn't look any less stressed. He walked over to the discouraged-looking Blaine, and looped his arms lazily around his shoulders. "Let me rephrase that. You, my love, are gorgeous," he kissed him lightly, "and sweet," punctuated with another kiss, "and are gonna look great no matter what you wear. I want you to be happy. We can make this work."

"There'll be ice cream?" He smiled, enjoying the kisses, and Kurt's adoring looks.

"And that'll just be the start. Until your mom kicks me out, anyway." Blaine chuckled at how his boyfriend could go from in-charge fashionista mode to seductive in seconds. That last look? Damn, he could deny him nothing.

"All right. You got me."

* * *

"Should I feel used?" Artie's tone was teasing, as Kurt had just deposited a fresh load of clothes onto his lap, and Mercedes wheeled him after Kurt and Blaine.

"No more than me, boo." Mercedes knew Artie hated not being able to propel himself, but his arms were occupied with maintaining the balance of the clothes piled on his lap. "'Cedes, can you get this in another color?'" she said, in a decent imitation of Kurt's manner.

"Is it just me, or does Blaine look kind of miserable?"

"I don't know, Artie. Honey, I gotta go to the ladies'. See you in a few," and with a squeeze to his shoulder, she left. Artie frowned, wondering if he were right, when Blaine himself appeared, breaking him out of his reverie. "Blaine! How'd you escape Kurt?"

Blaine looked around, and laughed a little uncomfortably. "I turned in the stuff at the changing room counter. I don't know..."

"Not your faves, eh? Let me ask you something. Just to save time; or we'll be here forever."

Blaine nodded, Artie was making sense. "Shoot. Anything."

"_Anything_? Okay, you said it. Seriously," and his voice dropped, and his face turned pensive. "Not to pry, but, what did the bullies in your past dress like?" He regretted it almost instantly, as Blaine's expression changed to one of sadness.

Blaine thought back to his first high school, and the Sadie Hawkins dance. It was a little different scene than McKinley, with an odd mix due to district lines of comfortably middle class kids and those from a tough, gang-ridden part of town. The bullies there weren't jocks primarily, but rough kids that made Puck look tame. Who dressed in black, and chains, and leather, and goth fashions and piercings.

"Why do you ask?" he eventually said, in a small, quiet voice.

"Because, yo, you don't need to dress like ya own oppressors anymore, bro. You've changed the dayum culture of this school, or started to. You've got peeps now – Glee, football guys. And Kurt. You're not alone, and you're not in danger all the time. Maybe you should dress like you, and not them."

Blaine felt his mouth go dry, and squatted next to Artie, so he could look at him eye to eye. "How did you know?"

"You ain't no thug, dude. You're smart, like me and Mike Chang, and you're no bully yourself. And your taste in music doesn't jibe with those clothes. Just putting two and two … ya know." Artie smiled a sweet, beautiful smile at Blaine, trying to convey to him that he liked him as himself, and hoping he hadn't gone too far.

"I hadn't … you know. But, you're right. That really helps. I gotta go find Kurt! Thanks!" and Blaine took off, to where Kurt had been last. Artie sighed, but decided his friends weren't deserting him on purpose, and waited for Mercedes. First thing he was going to do was make Kurt put all these things away that Blaine hadn't liked. Second, he was going to put his foot down about not piling him up like this again!

* * *

"You're sure? All right, it does make sense." Kurt agreed, taking a sip of his nonfat mocha.

Blaine had taken him away from the action for a few minutes, to mull over Artie's observations. "I don't need a complete makeover tonight, you know. Really, just an outfit for tomorrow is all we have to have."

"Well, yeah, but maybe a few more..."

Blaine smiled, and reached over to give Kurt's hand a quick squeeze. "I agree. But, let's go to Thompson's, I think I've got some ideas in mind."

Kurt bit back his retort. The independent men's clothing store was tasteful, but preppy. Not quite the fashion time warp that LL Bean was, but not exactly fashion forward either. Not a place he would shop at for himself, but he was determined to keep his word: he wanted outfits that Blaine actually liked. He smirked; Blaine would look good in anything.

* * *

Cooper waited patiently to deplane in Columbus. Stuck behind the lumbering crowd, he was happy he didn't have any bags checked, and made his way as quickly as he could to the car rental counter. Smiling his best smile at the middle aged clerk, who got all flustered when he turned it up with a little bit of friendly flirting, he took the keys from her to a sleek new hybrid and set off for Westerville.

* * *

Christine did some shopping of her own, and met Mimi for lunch to show her her purchases.

"Christy, that dress is going to look so cute on you! My little sister is so adorable," Mimi gushed. "Do you want to borrow my black clutch?"

"How did you know? If you don't mind," she added.

"Anything for you. Though I'm not sure looking this great for _him_ is worth it."

"Mimi -"

"I'm sorry if I'm not crazy about you giving him another chance. He hurt you, damn it, what am I supposed to think? I know it sounds good, but I worry."

"I know you do, sis. I know what I'm doing." Her expression was firm.

"All right. I hope you're right. You must be the most romantic accountant in Ohio," she teased.

It was funny, Christine mused, how her family saw her, versus how everyone at work knew her. There, she was quietly in control, was known to be a fair but no-nonsense person – completely necessary when reigning in the lawyers, by the way. She suspected her sister's view would always be colored by what she'd been back when she was a kid. "Maybe. Not like that's a bad thing. Help me pick out some new earrings?"

"Sure. My treat, okay. For luck." Mimi hoped she wouldn't need it.

* * *

Cooper pulled into the firm's parking lot, and gratefully breathed in the scents of autumn in Ohio. He looked fondly over at the park across the street, full of trees at peak color, and smiled, remembering how Christine had taken him on walks there, stopping off for donuts on the way back, when he was a little kid. He remembered how he'd pestered his father to ask out the sweet accountant, as he'd fantasized about having her be his stepmom, and how she could make all the loneliness of his father's quiet house go away. When his father confided that he'd already asked her three times, and that she'd turned him down, he'd asked permission to ask _for_ him. Why not? He'd reasoned that she really liked him, and maybe if it came from him... He'd been so happy when it worked, and the look of pure happiness when he'd dragged her to his father's office to have her tell him herself was one he'd never forget. He'd felt like such a good son, and so lucky: his adored Christine would fall for his dad, and they'd marry and she'd come live at their place... his child's mind had seen it all as so simple.

He'd been right, partly. Michael had courted Christine with a single-minded determination, and she had indeed reciprocated his affection, clearly becoming smitten pretty quickly. They'd married, and their first couple of years had been, to Coop's eyes anyway, all that he'd hoped for. She was attentive to him, reading to him, cooking yummy, unfamiliar dishes on weekends, and had such a sense of fun. And he'd gotten a little brother – Blaine, who worshiped him, and was adorable and sweet. But after a couple of years, Michael threw himself at his work, as his own father began to speak of retirement, and he wanted it to be clear he intended to succeed him in taking over. His successes in the courtroom mounted up, and he proved to be a good manager of the firm as well.

Michael and Christine remained in love, and she was patient. Cooper left for college, much to Blaine's distress. And Michael changed slowly from tenderness to sternness, as he saw less and less of his younger son, and when he did see him, felt the need to remind him to focus and achieve. Then when Blaine was a freshman, he came out to his family. Coop honestly hadn't paid that much attention – he was living in California, making money modeling while hoping to get his acting career under way. He knew lots of gay guys from his work, and thought nothing of it. To him, Blaine was still the same sweet, goofy, smart kid as always, and he didn't see the big deal. He would learn to regret his casual acceptance; when Blaine wanted to talk about it, he'd airily assured him he was cool with it, and hadn't seen the difficulties Blaine was going through.

Coop had watched helplessly as his father pulled away from Blaine, and then Christine. It had all made sense, when finally Christine had tearfully informed him she was leaving his father, who had cheated on her with an intern. He hadn't been much use either, he had to admit; there was no way he could help fix this – it was all so much more complicated than when his younger self had helped persuade her to go for dinner with his dad.

He strode into the outer office, and smiled at the ancient secretary, Mary. He had visions of the building being built around her, brick by brick. She'd served his grandfather, and now his father, and was soon to retire. She was like another grandmother to him. "Mary, so good to see you!" He crossed over to her, and kissed her wrinkly cheek, as she accepted his hug and gave him a peck back.

"Hey, stranger. It's been too long. How's life out in California treating you? When you going to settle down with a nice girl?" She quizzed him, and looked at him adoringly. _I have a right to ask him whatever I want,_ she thought. _And he knows better than to brush me off_.

"I'll be sure to tell you when I do, honey. You seen my new commercials?" He flashed his Hollywood smile at her.

"Of course I have, silly boy. Now, don't distract me..."

"Mary, sorry, but I gotta go see dad for a sec, then I'm off to Lima. He's in, right?"

She sighed. She missed Christine too. The whole office did, but they all understood when she'd moved to run the satellite office's accounting department in Lima. "Yes, he's in. I'd knock first; you know how he is."

"Okay. Thanks."

_Screw that, this is my own dad_, Coop thought, as he knocked but then opened the door to the corner office, all in the same gesture. A pretty young woman hopped off the corner of the massive desk, and Michael rose, a look of fury on his face at whoever had decided to walk in on him.

* * *

Kurt and Blaine left Glee practice, happily anticipating tonight's dinner plans. "I'd say your look today was a success," Kurt smiled as they walked to the parking lot.

To be sure, it wasn't a huge departure from his familiar palette: Blaine's dark gray fitted chinos, with a darker gray half-zip sweater with a red dress shirt underneath were still almost black in effect. The only chain showing was the silver chain of his pocket watch, nestled in his right hip pocket. But no one, Kurt thought, would consider calling this outfit juvie. It was classy. Like his boyfriend.

Blaine breathed a happy sigh of relief, and nodded his agreement. He felt at ease in this ensemble, like he wasn't wearing a costume anymore. And the day had gone well. Friends from Glee had commented approvingly (though he would wonder if Kurt put them up to it), and his teachers had seemed especially appreciative of his contributions in the classroom. And no one had bullied him.

"You do love being right, don't you?" Blaine murmured back, quirking an eyebrow.

"Doesn't everybody?"

"I suppose. But you're cute when I see you enjoy it. You're adorable." Blaine's eyes were shining, and Kurt blushed with the compliment.

"Flattery will get you … hmm, where is it you want to go?" Kurt flirted back, dropping his voice to a growl. Blaine felt his stomach do backflips and he struggled to put together an answer.

"Somewhere only we know ..." he sang back.

Kurt frowned cutely. "No fair, being that tempting. But we both need to go get ready for dinner. Pickup at 5:30?"

"That's right. Be ready!"

* * *

Blaine made his way to his bedroom and opted for a quick shower. Giving in to Kurt's lobbying, he used only a scant amount of gel, so his curls were evident, but not too crazy. He frowned, looking at himself in the foggy bathroom, not quite trusting that his hair would behave with such a small amount of gel on it. Maybe mom will carry some for me, in case I think I need it later? He wondered.

Clothes shopping with Kurt, Artie, and Mercedes had gotten a lot better once they'd settled on Thompson's (they also would have run out of time if they hadn't stuck to one store). Blaine liked the classic styles there, and it reminded him of trips there as a child, when he'd accompanied his mother to get clothes for his father. He put on the new Breton red skinny jeans, and a cream colored shawl collared sweater with blue and red trim. He had on a red bow tie with the navy button down shirt underneath. Once the tie was adjusted to his satisfaction, he surveyed the result and smiled. Yes, he thought, I'm ready to go out to dinner with my family. And Kurt.

"Blaine! Honey, are you almost ready? We've got to get going."

"Be down in a flash, mom." He grabbed the smallest tube of gel he had and rushed down to see her. "Mom, you look fantastic!"

Christine beamed at her son. "Thanks, sweetie. So do you." She reached over to hug him, and planted a kiss on his cheek. "You've grown to be so handsome. But we better hurry. We have to swing by Kurt's, and then the restaurant is another good 20 minutes at least."

"Don't worry, mom. He's excited, and I think he wouldn't want to make a bad impression, so I think he'll be ready. I just hope father is nice to him."

Christine looked at her son's slightly anxious expression. "Honey, I've talked to him. He really does want to meet him, and I'm sure it'll all be fine. Come on, let's go."

* * *

Cooper had waited outside his father's office until the girl vacated it. Mary and the other office staff had given him plenty of space, probably due to the stormy expression gracing the boss's son's face. He'd idly checked his phone for the fourth time, and she emerged. He immediately let himself in, and locked the door.

**A/N: [Ducking for cover] forgive me! I promise I won't leave you on this cliff too long. I plead that everyone had a lot of getting ready to do, and then Coop came in as a surprise. Don't worry, it's Friday morning, and I will get an update out some time this weekend, so have patience.**

**Dear reviewers, you know how much I love you. I'm going to skip the shout-out for now and say only that you give me great ideas, and encourage me so much. For anyone who hasn't reviewed, I do write back to every reviewer (unless they're on a guest, then I can't). The conversations that ensue from that are such a great part of this, making it feel like a real community.**

**As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts/feedback on this. I'm imagining some of you are mad at one of my characters … I'll just say, this story isn't finished and leave it at that. For now.**


	54. Chapter 54

**A/N: Sorry for leaving you hanging... let's pick up where we left off (still don't own Glee, etc.)**

_This chapter is dedicated to Eponime_

_**From last chapter …**_

_Cooper had waited outside his father's office until the girl vacated it. Mary and the other office staff had given him plenty of space, probably due to the stormy expression gracing the boss's son's face. He'd idly checked his phone for the fourth time, and she emerged. He immediately let himself in, and locked the door._

Michael Anderson looked at his son, knowing this was coming. _Shit! I do not have time for this. Damn it._ There was no avoiding talking to Cooper now (_why the hell did he have to show up just then?_). He drew in a breath, tried to summon patience, and met his son's icy stare.

"Cooper. I didn't expect to see you today."

"Clearly not." Coop's tone was as cold as his expression. "Just what the fuck was that?"

Michael sighed. "I'm not even going to bother to remind you of language. We're both too old for that. But it's not what you think."

"Really? Let's see. A young woman hops off your desk when I walk in -"

"Barge in."

"And what am I supposed to think?" Cooper's face had lost its icy edge now. He simply looked hurt now, and disappointed. "It's not like you have a clean track record."

Michael nodded, hating having to agree with him. "I swear it's not what you think. Do you even know who that was?"

"No, why should that matter?" Coop really was confused by this question.

Michael nodded, and walked to his doorway. "Mary?"

His secretary looked up from the file she was working on. "Mr. Anderson?" She rose to meet him at his office, noting his expression. She hadn't taken care of this firm for two generations without learning how to read her boss.

Entering the office, she quietly asked him, "What can I do for you, Michael?"

_I am so going to miss her when she retires_, the elder Anderson mused. The way she always knew what he needed at work, and how she would privately hold nothing back in this space, his office, made her such a treasure. Her competence was legend in the firm, and she had stayed in her job longer than she'd strictly had to, as she enjoyed the interaction. "Cooper here's been away too long; I think he didn't recognize my latest interviewee." They shared a conspiratorial smile.

"Cooper, I'm going to do you a favor and not tell her that you didn't remember her," she scolded.

Coop shook his head, confused at the turn this conversation was taking. He addressed Mary directly; he'd known her his whole life, and loyal to his father or no, he did not believe she would lie to him. "Okay, the joke's on me, I guess? Just tell me, please."

"Honey, that was my grand niece, Sarah. She's training to take my place when I retire -"

"What!"

"Don't interrupt, dear. That's still at least a year in the future. But I think in time she'll be ready; she's been working in the outer office with the research staff for a couple of years now."

"Sarah ..." He whipped his head around, and found her, across the floor some distance away, laughing with a co-worker, who looked to be congratulating her.

"Girls do grow up, you know." Mary smiled approvingly at the girl. "You remember now, I think. She babysat Blaine sometimes."

Cooper grinned, remembering the girl now, several years younger than himself but old enough that she'd watched Blaine at the office after school sometimes. "She looks so different now! In a good way," he hastily added, for Mary's benefit. "She was the one … oh my God, she was the one who got Blaine in trouble for playing furniture tag all those times..."

He remembered back to when Blaine was in kindergarten. He'd loved to come to the firm after school, to where both his parents were, and on Fridays he usually got his wish. But his parents really were busy with work, and Sarah had been there too, waiting for her Auntie Mary to take her in for a weekend of special girl time. Mary had work to do too, and they'd found it beneficial all around, to have the sixth grader 'babysit' the boss' rambunctious little boy. Except she used the time to scamper all over the partners' office, teaching Blaine a game she invented that she called furniture tag, which involved a lot of jumping and climbing on furniture (no touching the ground to get away, or to the 'safe zone'). When Michael had returned to his office after a case, watching the merry chase, he'd laughed at how much fun they were having, until Blaine tumbled off the back of a big upholstered chair and ran to him in tears.

Despite what anyone tried to tell them, it took years for Sarah and Blaine to outgrow their love of that game. To this day Michael had been quick to blame Sarah for Blaine's habit of hopping onto all manner of furniture; Cooper always teased him and said it was because he was so little.

"Thanks, Mary. I'll see you in a minute about that file I need for later."

"The one with the announcement? It's ready," she assured him with a smile, and returned to her desk.

Cooper closed the door, and turned to his father. "Okay, so now I know who that was ..."

"Son, I was showing her this printout of our ledger for supplies," he pointed to the pile of papers on his desk, "and I was standing right there, and I didn't think, but I guess it was hard for her to see it, since she's so short, and before I knew it she'd hopped up on the desk to read along. I'd just gotten seated, and reminded her that hopping onto the boss' desk isn't really something I expect our secretaries to do, when you walked in. I know it looked weird, but I swear it's true."

Cooper frowned. Knowing Sarah, it really was believable. His father had been angry at being interrupted (that had always been true), and then even more so probably upon seeing his son's reaction. "I _do_ want to believe you. I came home to go with you to dinner, Blaine was excited, and so's Christine."

Michael stood to look at his older son eye to eye. "I know I screwed up; I'm trying hard to fix this, I swear. I don't ever want to do anything like that again; I know now more than ever that I really do want her back. But look," he pleaded, his eyes begging for understanding. "Go talk to Sarah yourself. Ask whatever."

"And ask her what? 'Oh, Sarah, congrats on your promotion, and by the way, you're not fooling around with my father, right?' Seriously!"

"Cooper. You're an actor. You've told me that's what you want to do. Fine. I accept this now! So, go pour on the charm, schmooze, whatever. I am confident that when you've talked to her you'll believe me, there is no _there_ there." He'd smiled, knowing his closing argument was effective.

* * *

Coop had indeed disappeared with Sarah, and under the guise of "old times" had taken her out for coffee and pastries, and she had openly shared with him all about her love life (with a boy in the research department who was studying law) and had even eventually shared how embarrassed she'd been at getting busted for hopping on furniture at the office, just like when they were kids. His mood lightened immediately, secure in the knowledge that this would one day be a great story to embarrass his father with. Just maybe not any time too soon.

* * *

"I'm coming right down!" Kurt had yelled excitedly, as Blaine waited with his mother in the living room.

"Kurt must really be looking forward to this; I think he might just be down on time," Burt chuckled.

"I heard that." Kurt appeared behind his father, wearing a pretend pout. "So -"

"You look perfect. As always." Blaine meant it; Kurt's style tonight was impeccable, but understated, in his favorite slate gray Marc Jacobs jacket, with a red pocket cloth for a pop of color, classic fitted white dress shirt and red and gray striped tie. His designer dress slacks were, naturally, sinfully fitted, but this was Kurt, after all. He looked as coolly elegant as a runway model, but at the same time at home in the beautiful clothes.

Christine and Burt shared a look, each taking in the look in their sons' eyes.

Kurt smiled at Blaine, feeling much more confident, looking at the appreciation he saw there. He heard in some corner of his mind his father's throat-clearing, and seemed to recollect himself. Shaking his head just slightly, as if waking up, he turned to Christine. "Mrs. Anderson, you look so lovely. That's the new dress you were telling me about, right? And you found the perfect earrings for it."

She laughed prettily, and all of them stopped to look and listen to her. "Actually, Mimi picked these out, to go with this dress. She's always been good at that."

"I have to agree." Kurt smiled at her; she wasn't really fashionable in exactly a Vogue cover way, but her style really did suit her, and she looked adorable.

Burt watched, proud of his son for waking up and paying attention to Blaine's mother. He knew his son could get awfully absorbed with his boyfriend, but he was glad that he was so good with Blaine's mom.

"Boys, let's get going and be on time, all right?" Christine motioned to get them out the door. "Burt, good night, we'll get him home at a reasonable hour."

"Thanks, and have a great time. Kurt told me his homework's done, so it's all good."

Kurt smiled, accepting Christine's invitation to sit up front with him, as he knew the way better than she did.

"Thanks, sweetie. I really haven't lived here long, and Allessandro's is a little out of the way."

"I'm happy to be your guide." He smiled at her. While he loved cuddling next to Blaine whenever he got the chance, he was happy to help her, and took advantage of the opportunity to chat with her for the short trip.

Blaine checked his pocket watch. He sighed happily; they would indeed be on time; something his father prized highly, he knew. He enjoyed watching Kurt chat with his mom, their interactions so natural, and both of them full of smiles, adding a comment himself occasionally, but mostly quiet as he waited.

He so wanted things to go well at this dinner tonight. If only things with his father could be as relaxed as the conversation happening on the front seats. He tried to swallow his nerves, and followed his mother into the restaurant, where he was almost knocked over –

"Blainers!"

**A/N: I hope you've enjoyed. I know, they still haven't eaten, but I think they'll be good, for now. I hope to write another chapter, maybe tonight, but would love to hear your thoughts on this one; I love hearing from you so much.**


	55. Chapter 55

**A/N: So sorry for the delay! I don't own Glee, yada yada, etc., and so forth.**

_**So, here's what you missed on Glee (insert Glee announcer voiceover)** … Michael's taking Christine and Blaine out to dinner, and he asked Blaine to bring Kurt. Kurt insisted that Blaine needed a new outfit (or several), so with the help of Mercedes and Artie, they found a new look to suit Blaine better... Cooper decided to surprise them by joining them, and went first to Westerville, when he caught his father in what looked like a compromising position (but, whew! It was just Sarah, Blaine's old babysitter). Blaine's just been tackled by Coop, so that's what you missed! ;-)_

"Cooper! Oh my God, I can't believe it!" Blaine stepped back from his brother's bone crushing hug.

Kurt stood with Christine, staring in shock. Cooper. Anderson. No way! Blaine's brother was The Cooper Anderson. With the cheesy but adorable singing commercials; commercials so fun to watch that he never fast forwarded them, ever. And the impressive portfolio of fashion shoots, from Vogue to GQ to Ladies' Home Journal. Never mind that some of them were for boxer briefs; he'd looked great in all of them. And, oh Lord, he was even prettier in person.

_Ahem!_ Kurt cleared his throat, mentally. _And not gay. And also Blaine's brother. Get a grip_, he chided himself, glad that the brothers were lost for a few moments in each other.

"Father! Hi." Blaine broke away from Cooper, who had moved on to hugging Christine and complimenting her on her ensemble. Kurt watched as he shared a decidedly more formal hug with his father.

_God, those genes._ Coop looked much more like his father than Blaine did, and had his height and his blue eyes. But Michael had clearly given Blaine his jawline, beautiful body structure, and hands. Kurt tried to shake himself from his musings; for Blaine, Michael had been a source of a lot of the pain in his recent life. Kurt gazed at Blaine, finding more reasons to love him right there, seeing how willing he was to give this man a chance. He hoped he was right to do so.

"Father, this is Kurt. And Kurt, this is my father, Michael, and my brother, Cooper." Christine looked at her son, so formal and correct, his face a total mask now. She hated seeing it, and hoped it wouldn't stay long; Blaine's flawless manners and expression could fool most people, but she saw it as a danger sign; a sign that at any moment, he would mentally retreat, try to disengage from hurt. Damn.

Michael stepped up to Kurt, who smiled nervously to Blaine, but then politely engaged in conversation with the senior Anderson. "Mr. Anderson, it's nice to meet you. Thank you so much for inviting me to this dinner."

"Glad to have you, Kurt. I've heard a lot about you; oh, don't worry, all good," and he flashed a winning smile at him.

_So that's where he gets it from_, Kurt smiled back. It was the spitting image of Blaine's performance smile. _Unreal! _He chuckled nervously. "Ah, good. I love your choice of restaurant."

"Well, I'd heard great things about it. Our table is ready, so we can be seated." And he motioned for everyone to follow him as he followed their deferential hostess (who'd patiently waited throughout this reunion).

"Kurt, hey, it's nice to meet you in person," Coop fell into step beside him.

Kurt smiled at the irony; famous person meets nobody, and that's what comes out of his mouth? "Nice to meet you too. I hadn't expected that."

"I know, it's a lot at once. But I couldn't stay away. Look, I'm glad he invited you, okay? Don't be nervous, I think he really just wants to get to know you. I know I do! Blainey here can't stop talking about you."

Kurt blushed, and Blaine reached out to hold his hand for a moment. "It's true," he murmured. Leaning in closer, he whispered in Kurt's ear, "I love you. Courage."

Kurt giggled, suddenly feeling more at ease. Screw it, he thought. My beautiful boyfriend wants me here, as does his sweetie of a mom, and the brother is hot, but also seems like a really nice guy. And the food at this place? Awesome.

They settled into their places at the round table, situated near the big wall of windows looking out onto the lake. Michael studied his younger son as they all accepted menus. He approved of Kurt's help in the clothes department, that was for sure. Christine had filled him in on the frenzied shopping trip of the night before, when Kurt had insisted Blaine had nothing appropriate to wear for this occasion. His son looked sharp, and handsome in a preppy sort of a way. As he sat there, between Kurt and Cooper, Michael couldn't help but analyze further: the colors were all Dalton colors, just flipped a little (with the cream sweater on the outside, with its red and navy trim, complete with a red tie and navy shirt). Did this version of that look somehow give him comfort, the way he probably did from his Dalton uniforms? Had he just gravitated towards those colors automatically? It didn't matter, since those colors looked really good on him. He was just trying to gauge just how much Blaine was trying to arm himself from hurt. The hell with that, Michael decided.

"So, Kurt, glad you approve of the venue; can you tell me what's good here?"

Kurt looked up at Mr. Anderson, who was smiling encouragingly. He took a moment to breathe, not wanting to sound too nervous. "Well, the short answer is everything. Not that I've gotten to try it all, but that's the reputation. I've had the eggplant Parmesan here, and it was amazing. I tried my dad's, he got the lasagne, and that was great too. I think it'd be hard to go wrong here."

Michael was pleased; he'd managed to get Kurt to talk, and liked the boy's manners, and his serious attempt at a considered response to his bland question. "So, one of the house specialties, something Italian maybe. Why do they even have meatloaf on the menu?"

"I know, right!" Kurt answered, and Michael saw the wit dancing in the boy's eyes.

"I don't know about you, but I personally am ordering the most expensive stuff on the menu; I came a long way, and he's paying," Cooper teased his dad.

"Go ahead, as if I expected any less from you," Michael airily shot back. "But seriously, boys, go with whatever sounds good. This is a celebration, after all."

Christine sat back, and studied her menu, then stole a glance at her husband, sitting beside her. Michael was always precise in his choice of words, so what did that mean? She knew he was glad Cooper had flown out to join them, but he hadn't known that in advance, so that wasn't it. She also hadn't agreed to anything other than putting their divorce on hold, and after their last time together, didn't think he'd be so insensitive as to claim victory when she hadn't yet granted it. Not fully, anyway. She was glad for the distraction Kurt afforded, and so happy that Coop was here. With the five of them, they felt like a much jollier group.

"So," she whispered to him, "you want to explain yourself?"

He smiled back at her, not yet ready for his big reveal. Her voice had the same effect it had when they first got together, especially when she spoke right to him at close range like that. How had he ever forgotten for even ten minutes how wonderful she was?

"I do. And I will. Be patient." He'd spoken slowly, for her only, and gazed at her with a look of love and pleading.

She smiled back at him, knowing how he loved to stage his surprises _just so_. "This better be good."

"I hope so." He lifted her hand nearest him and kissed the top of it. "You better decide what you're ordering, love."

_Damn. She felt the thrill then all the way down to her toes. Does he know that all I want to do right now is give in?_ She felt suddenly grateful for the long meal before them, to give herself time to acclimate to this. If it were even possible. "And why is that, my dear?" She kept her tone light, teasing him back.

"You know very well why, don't pretend otherwise," he cooed back. "If I don't make you focus, you'll get flustered and order something random, and then decide mine looks better anyway and start poaching. Nuh uh."

"Really? Are you saying you won't let me poach?" and pretended to be hurt.

Kurt, Blaine, and Coop had all gone silent, watching as the suddenly oblivious couple flirted in front of them. _Those puppy dog eyes_, Kurt smirked, _so that's where _those_ come from. And ohmygod, they're adorable on her too!_ He watched as Blaine's father melted in front of him.

Cooper broke the ice by addressing Kurt. "So, Kurt, I hope you plan to order something amazing. Really, do not be shy here."

Blaine broke away from staring at his parents, deciding to try to give them a little space, taking Coop's lead. "Have you ever had lobster, Kurt?"

"Um, no. Not a whole one anyway. I did have some lobster bisque one time, and it was really tasty. But lobster, Blaine? Don't you think that'd be a bit much to order here?"

Michael had broken away from flirting with Christine, overhearing the boys' discussion of what to order. "You've never had lobster? Kurt, really, I must insist. I'd be happy for you to have it. Blainey here can even show you how to eat it properly."

Kurt pinked up at being the center of attention. He'd been worried about how this would go, knowing that Michael had certainly given Blaine shit in the past about being gay. But he seemed at ease so far, so Kurt began to relax too. "Thank you. That is so kind. I think I'll take you up on it," he added, shyly.

Blaine beamed at his father, not expecting this level of acceptance. True, they hadn't acted in this place any different than friends might, but his father did know that Kurt was his boyfriend. He was starting to think his mother was right, and that the counseling sessions were helping.

Kurt turned to him again. "So, what you ordering? Decided?"

Just as Michael had predicted, Christine hadn't really chosen when their waiter came to take their order, but he helped her, and they giggled as they crowded together to look at the same menu.

The dinner was everything Kurt could have hoped for. He was excited to have tried his first lobster (despite Coop insisting on it being just a giant gross sea bug), and Blaine was indeed a master at managing the thing, leaning over and helping him with it, and both of them enjoying the excuse for closer proximity. Michael spied on them, and chuckled; it was clear his boy was in love. He would admit to anyone that he was not at all ready to see them be physical in any shape or form, but seeing them in this setting, on their best behavior, was easy to take.

He liked the boy. Kurt had strong opinions, once he'd opened up, but these were tempered with good manners and sensitivity. He saw how they looked at each other when the other spoke, and saw the humor and support there, as well as the clear attraction. Blaine was so obviously happy with him. Cooper was good with him too, teasing him as if he'd acquired another younger brother.

He reached for his slim leather briefcase, and placed a folder on their freshly cleared table, as they waited for coffees and dessert.

"Work, to this dinner? You didn't." Christine chided, mockingly.

"I did. But I think you'll approve."

Cooper knew. They'd discussed it before the trip down, and he had to admit it was a perfect plan. He sat back to watch, a contented smile playing across his handsome features.

Blaine watched, a puzzled expression on his face, taking in Coop's relaxed posture, and his father's expectant one. What could possibly make sense that he'd bring to this family dinner?

"Christine, can you read over this proposal for me?"

She frowned prettily, and opened the folder. The memo was easy to read, on the expensive cream colored heavy paper the firm used for its most important documents. "Does this mean what I think it means?"

"Yes." He smiled at her, and took her hands in his. "Blaine doesn't want to leave where he is, and you're in Lima and won't leave him behind. The solution is simple: bring forward the plan to develop our satellite office sooner than later. I've already got my best accountant on the case." He squeezed her hands, and smiled hopefully at her.

"Um, that's a good business plan..." she trailed off, looking into his eyes.

"And I've gotten a house near the Lima office. No pressure, I swear it, but I don't want to commute from Westerville." Everyone at the table was looking at him now, and all except Cooper bore mild shock in their expressions.

"Ah, what about your ongoing cases?" Christine tried for a reasonable tone to her voice, which came out as almost a whisper.

"What are partners for? Well, except for the big ones we're wrapping up. I'll still need to go to court in Columbus for them until they're done. Maybe I'll have to get one of those hybrid cars Cooper is always trying to get me to buy."

She studied the other papers in the folder. "They all approved it." Then her eye rested on the printed letterhead. "You. You made it. You made it!" She shrieked in happiness, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"What! Tell us!" Blaine insisted, starting to bounce too.

"I made senior partner! Now even a short exile to start up our new office can't touch me!" Michael smiled, and laughed as his wife and younger son launched themselves out of their seats to hug him.

Kurt looked over at Cooper, who clearly knew this was coming.

"See? I told you this dinner was lobster-worthy. Even if it is just a giant sea bug."

Dessert had been every bit as splendid as the meal that preceded it, with the boys enjoying their tiramsu thoroughly (and Coop just had to embarrass them by acting out the bit from Sleepless in Seattle), and Christine stealing some of her husband's dessert, just like old times.

Walking into the chilly air, on the way to their cars, Kurt was surprised when he felt the senior Anderson's hand on his arm, pulling him away.

"Kurt, I'm so glad you joined us tonight."

"Thank you. I … I'm honored you asked me to come."

He smiled at the boy's poised response, and admired his guts for joining them, knowing that his own reputation would have given him pause. "I'm glad Blaine found you. He looks really happy with you. Not to mention better dressed." He smirked, looking over at his son, who was opening the door to the car for his mother.

"That was a pleasure to do," Kurt assured him. "I'm glad you approve."

"I do. More than you know. I want him to be himself. It looks like you're helping with that."

Kurt didn't know what to say. He'd expected having to endure this meal, maybe even having to call his dad if it felt too awful. But he'd really had a great time, and had loved seeing Blaine loosen up when it became clear that what his father's intentions were. He went for honesty. "He's so worth it."

"Right you are. Oh, and I called you over here for a reason. I have something for you."

Kurt's brows furrowed, completely not expecting anything like this, or why the attorney would be giving him anything at all.

Michael straightened himself up, closed the car door, and dangled in front of Kurt a white box with red ribbons encircling it. "Some more pastries from Corsentino's. I heard you liked them."

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this, after our long hiatus (long for me anyway). I've missed writing and talking with you. Not to whine, but work's been a bear, and I'm also volunteering for the get out the vote push here in New Hampshire (and working on making the robe for my daughter's high school play, Aida). And Halloween happened here (which we love, and celebrate!). So, I'm happy to be returning home to my keyboard.**

**My heart goes out to the victims of Sandy. Here, we only had a blackout of about 20 hours' duration. My home town, however, is Staten Island, so it saddens me to see how bad it was. My family there is safe, for which I'm so grateful. Dear readers, I hope all of you are well!**

**Our tale is coming closer to ending, but there are still some surprises in store. As always, I'd love to hear from you. If you'd like to see more of any character, or if you've got any other feedback, fire away. Of course, good old encouragement is always most welcome, and I love chatting back with you. And the next chapter won't be such a long wait!**


	56. Chapter 56

**A/N: Still don't own Glee, or any songs or products you might see here … And I'm shocked to see it's been 10 days since I updated this story … without further ado... see you at the end A/N.**

_**So, here's what you missed on Glee (insert Glee announcer voiceover)** Cooper surprised everyone by showing up for the big family dinner; at first he thought he'd caught Michael cheating, but it turns out Sarah just hadn't outgrown her love for hopping on furniture … Michael announced over dinner he made senior partner, and is also temporarily relocating to Lima to up-size the firm's satellite office there … Kurt had a great time at dinner, enjoying lobster for the first time … so that's what you missed!_

Kurt happily joined Blaine in the back seat. Cooper had insisted on driving, as Christine had enjoyed some champagne with dessert.

"Kurt, what is that?" Blaine chuckled as he looked at the box on his boyfriend's lap.

"Oh this?" he answered, airily. His tone then changed, becoming softer as it became serious, "your father gave this to me, when he pulled me aside there for a minute. He was really nice," he smiled, and went on, "he even approved of your makeover."

Blaine snorted, then recovered a little. "Well, well, well. Complimenting your fashion sense, and bribing you with pasty on top of that; he must have really wanted to make a good impression."

"That and insisting on me having my first lobster, with you as my helper. I think he succeeded." He reached over to kiss his boyfriend's head. "I mean, it doesn't make the past go away exactly. But it does show that he wants to make nice." Leaning in, he spoke into Blaine's ear. "That, and he isn't trying to take you away from me anymore."

Kurt had avoided talking to Blaine about it, but that had been a persistent fear: that Blaine might be whisked away back to Dalton. True, he'd drive there to see him as often as he could, but the thought of having him away in Westerville most of the time, and not sharing Glee club and lunches and time together practically daily would only make his stomach ache. When they'd talked of it before, Blaine had firmly denied that he'd go, but he knew that as a minor in the end maybe he wouldn't be so free to choose. Not having that hanging over them was a welcome relief. The fact that Michael had been kind to him, charming even, just made it even better.

Blaine leaned into Kurt, enjoying the closeness, and hummed happily in agreement. They'd agreed without ever having to talk about it that at least for now, they'd stay clear of physical affection in front of Michael. Blaine was happy, for now, with what they had: his father had indeed been good to Kurt, talked to him with respect and even a little humor. He suspected that this third offering of pastry was likely to become a running gag, a way Michael would continue to communicate to Kurt that he was sorry for the past, a white flag. How like him, he thought, that he would turn a box of top quality treats into a message, and make it his own. He shook his head a little, and smirked, agreeing inwardly that he'd been won over too by these demonstrations of … something … to his boyfriend. Was it any wonder he almost never lost a jury trial?

Cooper drove, accepting directions from Christine, and happy to see her looking like herself again. She looked pretty, carefree, and clearly happy that both her boys were with her tonight. Not that Coop didn't love his own mother, but his relationship with Christine had always been special, and whenever he was with her, he always felt accepted and loved, and even mothered. He was so glad that his father hadn't messed this up beyond repairing, or at least that's how it was looking to him.

"Chris, this turn, right?"

"Mmm hmm, we're almost there. You really didn't have to drive you know, it was just one glass," she teased him. "But I'm happy to have you over." Michael was following behind, and Coop would join him at his new place to sleep tonight.

"I'm just so happy to see you happy. You should have never had to go through this -"

"No, let's not talk about that. I'll just say I agree with you, but I don't want to go there tonight. Or maybe ever. Did he know you were coming?"

"Nope. It was quite a surprise." He figured she didn't need to know that hours earlier he would have happily throttled his father. "Got to see some of the old office people. They all said hi, especially Mary and Sarah."

"That's so nice. I miss them. All right, turn here, and there we are, number 21."

Michael had followed them. Of course he knew the way, but it made sense. He noticed the boys, in the back seat, cuddling, behaving like any teenage couple. He figured they had been on the formal side around him, meaning partly, no physical affection. It hadn't been needed; their conversation, the happy way Blaine got in close, helping Kurt with his lobster (was it really that hard? He tried to think back to the first time he'd had it), and how they seemed to look at each other when they thought no one noticed. They were oblivious to the fact that he was in the car right behind them, and he could see them. It looked sweet to him, though: they looked like they were laughing, and the contact they had was not inappropriate for a ride with his mom and big brother.

Michael sighed. He wasn't used to it yet, not all the way. But he could foresee a time when he would be, and was thankful they'd had the tact to go slow, in front of him anyway. That, and he really admired Kurt. The boy was clearly bright, and had good social skills: he'd had all of Blaine's immediate family to deal with, and only knew Christine, but he'd quickly won Cooper's heart, and he enjoyed seeing the boys spar with the actor, who had always teased his little brother. Kurt had asked him about his practice, and they'd discussed workplace renovations, once he'd made his big announcement. Christine had told him the boy loved fashion, but he'd also had opinions on layout and design, and he'd enjoyed talking to him about his ideas for expanding the Lima office.

He pulled in beside Christine's car and followed them all inside. He was wide awake, and glad when Christine suggested having some tea while Blaine volunteered to drive Kurt home.

* * *

"You really are quite the actor; maybe it runs in your family," Kurt commented as he got in Blaine's car.

Blaine looked at him, brows furrowed in confusion.

"I mean, I know you had a good time, but I think maybe you were more nervous than I was."

Blaine smiled at this. "You know me too well. How is that possible," he whispered, reaching to give him a peck on the cheek. "Maybe I was. I mean, I wanted him to be good to you. And I wanted him to like you. I can't help but remember some of the things he's said in the past, and believe me, some of them weren't nice. I want to believe he's trying to change, and yeah, I guess I was nervous that he hadn't. I mean, I know he wants mom back, but me?"

Kurt's heart hurt at the doubt he heard there; he'd had moments of wondering if his dad would approve of him, especially when he came out, but he'd never questioned his dad's love. Looking at Blaine, he didn't know how that could even be possible. Blaine, whose heart was so open, and who clearly wanted to be loved in return; how could his father have withheld this? But he knew that he had, in the past, or at least had seemed to.

"Blaine, it really looks like he's trying; I think he means it. I mean, it was his idea to have you bring me, and the way he acted tonight, you'd never know how he, um, used to be."

Blaine reached over and squeezed his hand. "That's what convinced me. He really was nice to you; I think he went out of his way. I think he knows the best way to my heart is through you. I love you, so much. For coming tonight, even though it must have been hard for you, for being so charming, for just being you. You're amazing." His voice was hushed in the quiet car.

"You're worth it, Blaine. All of it, even if it hadn't worked out, I would never say no to you if you wanted me there. I love you too."

"How did I ever get to be so lucky?

_Somewhere in my youth_

_ Or childhood,_

_ I must have done something good._"

Kurt chuckled, as his eyes misted a little. "Really, Blaine? Singing Sound of Music lyrics to me? You cheeseball."

"You love it."

Kurt sighed. "Yeah. I do. I love you."

* * *

Friday's classes went by in a blur, followed by the usual busyness of a football Friday. Both of Blaine's parents came to the game, and Kurt was with them and Cooper, as well as Burt and Carole. He'd be in the big homecoming show, but he wasn't a regular Cheerio, so didn't have to perform at every game. They'd won, with Blaine getting the chance to deliver a few well executed kicks, but no field action beyond that. Kurt couldn't believe how easily Michael seemed to fit into their group; Christine of course had watched games before with his dad and Carole, but Blaine's father was new to this. He knew the game very well, and he and Burt spent a lot of the time talking sports.

* * *

Dave Karofsky woke up that Saturday before his alarm could sound. He grinned at the beautiful, still colorful maple outside his window, sun filtering through its red and golden leaves. Whatever Sebastian had planned, he was anxious to go to Dalton.

Sebastian had assured him they'd welcome him in Wes' grandiose moving/reorganization of the Warblers' room. He'd teased him, as usual, insisting he would be slave labor (with pizza) and that he'd enjoy what came after. Surprisingly, for Sebastian, it hadn't come across at all dirty, so that piqued Dave's curiosity even more. Moving stuff? Dave smiled. Bring it.

He hastily dressed, in his usual jeans, and grabbed a long sleeved tee and hoodie. It was supposed to be nice out today, not too cold. Looking out from the breakfast nook at the yard, with most of the leaves already gone, it was still a beautiful day. Good for driving, and not bad if they had to move anything outside.

He headed out to his car after breakfast, punched the address into his GPS, and prepared to go to Dalton. Before he started, his phone chimed, alerting him to a text. He smiled to see it was from Sebastian.

**Growly, don't be late. Wes might have to get out the gavel. Text me. SS**

He'd missed 'Bastian. Whatever else the day might bring, he looked forward to seeing him. **Leaving now. Gavel? Should I be worried? ;-)**

The drive was uneventful, and he got there a little early, just as he'd hoped he would. He pulled up to the open gates of the school, and saw Sebastian hop off a boulder just inside. He stopped, and 'Bastian let himself in.

"I'm glad you made it. With a bit of time to spare, I'm impressed," Sebastian drawled.

"You did say to be on time. Why, on a Saturday morning, but whatever."

"Let's just say we've got a busy day planned." Looking over at Dave, he added, "but seriously, I think you're going to like it."

Dave glanced over at Sebastian, who looked sincere, and nodded. He followed directions, until he pulled into the Visitor space in front of a smaller building.

Wes was standing outside, ready to meet them. "Dave, Sebastian, glad to see you're on time," he said, checking his watch. "Lots to do." He grinned at Dave. "Thanks for coming, by the way."

"Sure." Dave was looking around him, and studied the garden in front of the building that housed the Warblers' rehearsal space. "This garden, it's very beautiful." He frowned for a moment, gazing at it more closely. "Did you change gardeners a couple of years ago?"

Wes narrowed his eyes. "Why would you say that?"

Dave studied his feet for a moment, then answered him. "It's all pretty and all, but, looking at the structure, I mean I can see..."

"Yes?" Wes prodded.

Sebastian looked at the two boys, puzzled by the turn this conversation had taken. David came out to join them, coming to rest near Wes' side.

Dave continued, growing more confident, with more time to study the grounds in front of him, and then examining the landscaping across the path, as well as turning to the way they'd arrived. "Well, it's past frost, so the gardens aren't at their peak, but in a way that makes it easier to see what's here, if you know what I mean, to see the bones." None of them did, but no one interrupted him. He didn't notice, engrossed in taking in the details further. "If you look here, these tall perennials at the back of the border are all great plants, but they've been neglected. Without attention, they're not going to look good again for another year. And here," he pointed to the flower bed in front of them, "you see where the dead annuals haven't been all cleared away yet. But it looks like they've leaned pretty hard on the annuals here. I mean, it looks good, but it doesn't take much skill. Whoever planted the original perennials, and managed the shrubs and ornamental trees, it's like they're not here anymore."

Wes nodded, as did David, and they shared a knowing glance. Sebastian figured it was time to speak up; this whole conversation so far totally confused him.

"Ah, Growly, while I admire your mad, I don't know, landscape critiquing skills, what the hell?"

David shared a look with Wes. "You've gotta tell us more about this, but we should get Pat."

Wes smiled at Dave and Sebastian, as David sent off a text. "Sebastian, this is before your time here, but it turns out your friend here is absolutely right. Most of us see all this," and he swept everything around them in one gesture, "and we don't give it a second thought. It's pretty here. So what."

Sebastian squinted in the autumn light, still not getting it. "Okay. So?"

David looked up, having completed his text. "I think if we gave him the chance, Dave here could tell us much more. How do you know this?"

"Um, my family owns a landscaping business, and I've picked things up. What I like the most is landscape design, and working with the plants. Dad says I have a knack for it."

"You definitely do." Wes smiled at him. "You nailed it. Our head gardener, Toby, died two years ago, so Sebastian here never met him. But the guy is a Dalton legend."

"That's right." David shared a wistful smile with Wes. "He ran the groundskeeping like it was his private kingdom, which it kind of was. The beauty you see here," and he waved his arm to include all they could see, "anything that's not a building, that's Toby."

"But that wasn't all of it. The Head had a habit of assigning boys to help him, as an alternative to detention. Except usually you didn't get a choice. But that was the genius of it: Toby wasn't just a legend for having an eye for landscaping; he knew how to tame boys too."

David added, "if a kid was acting out, Toby would set him to weeding, or harvesting herbs, lots of different things. And then he'd just work beside him, and talk. Next thing you knew, the kid was telling Toby all his troubles, whatever got him in trouble with the Headmaster in the first place. He was amazing."

Wes nodded, remembering. "It sounds corny, but plants weren't the only things he knew how to grow. I'm just really impressed that you see his hand at work here, and that in a way the grounds of Dalton miss him, just like the guys do."

"Toby worked here forever; his father before him, and stayed on past retirement age. He never did get to retire properly, but by the time we got here he was part time. Or so he said; I mean, it seemed like he was always just _here_, supervising the grounds crew, or talking to some troubled, homesick kid."

Dave had listened intently, and he could see it clearly. It was like whoever had taken over was afraid to change anything; but a garden needs tending, he thought. Trees need pruning, perennials need freshening, and you need to change things up if there's a lot of damage after a harsh winter. Their old gardener was revered; he had to agree, looking around, that the man had had a gift for landscape design. That he'd been around for decades made sense too; this much beauty was borne of continuity. He was glad to hear they'd appreciated the old gardener.

Sebastian looked at the three boys. He hadn't heard about Toby, but he was new this year, and Toby had been gone, they'd said, for a couple of years. He smiled at Dave, his diamond in the rough. He wasn't really shocked that the boy had more to him than met the eye, but this new side of him was a welcome surprise.

As they talked, and walked over to look at a grove of fruit trees a little closer, they were joined by a tall blonde boy, who smiled at the visitor.

Wes noticed him. "Pat! This is Dave Karofsky, Sebastian's friend. You would not believe ..."

* * *

"You did say there would be pizza, right?" Dave asked, as he put the last storage case in place. Boxes of music could be surprisingly heavy. Not a problem for him, but he was still happy they were finally done. If Wes changed his mind one more time...

"Yes, there will be pizza. Plenty. And movie night after, a Warbler tradition. But before any of that," and he was now joined by all the Warblers, who gathered behind him. Dave noted that they looked like they were standing in formation. "Before that, we have something we want to do."

Wes stepped forward. "We met under, well, unusual circumstances. I'm glad Sebastian could talk you into coming up here today, and you've been really helpful. But we wanted to sing for you." He stepped back, and Sebastian stepped forward a little, as the boys behind him began to sing a chord.

_ The sun goes down_

_ The stars come out_

_ And all that counts, is here and now_

_ My universe will never be the same_

_ I'm glad you came_

Dave was shocked; they were singing and dancing, and they were all looking towards him as they did, smiling as they did it. He watched in awe as the song went on, loving Sebastian's funny, exaggerated faces on some parts, and he thought he understood.

His first meeting with the Warblers had been quite different. For one thing, he hadn't known them at all, and the intent had nothing in common with the performance going on now.

_My universe will never be the same_

_ I'm glad you came_

_ I'm glad you came._

Dave looked down as they finished, hiding the tears that wanted to spring from his eyes. If he'd been looking, he would have seen that they were matched by some of his hosts'.

Wes spoke first. "Dave, we welcome you here as a friend, today. We truly _are_ glad you came. And I'll say it; we're sorry about the first time we met, and how that probably made you feel."

He just nodded his head, not yet trusting his voice. He cleared his throat noisily, and answered, "well, I kind of had it coming. And you did scare the shit out of me," he was now smiling at them, and they nervously laughed, "but you helped me too. So, thanks. Thanks for the song – it was great, by the way. And thanks for being my friend," at this last bit he looked at Sebastian.

Sebastian smiled back, happy that this had gone so well. "Hmpf, well, the pizza's gonna be here in about five minutes, so let's get set up to eat. I did promise to feed you, Growly."

Dave smirked back at him. "Damn straight."

**A/N: Well, in case you're wondering, Dave's first meeting with the Warblers was in chapter 20 (in case you'd like to peek back). And the song they sung this time was "Glad You Came" by The Wanted. I hope you liked it.**

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews; they really make my day, and help me write a better fic for you. Our big ending party is fast approaching. I'd love to hear your feedback: did Dave surprise you? Would you like more of that particular story (it does in fact exist in my head)? How do you feel about the Warblers' apology? As I get closer to wrapping this up, this is the time for you to tell me anything you want to make sure I fit in. I've even been known to work in special requests ;-)**

**Thanks in advance, and thanks for reading!**


	57. Chapter 57

A/N: Sorry, dear fans of this story (and maybe even my others) … I've changed my name; not something I really wanted to do, but I do have my reasons. I'm still me – I'll now just go by Nightingale63. I do plan to add an epilogue, soon, and hope you'll bear with me. Please feel free to PM me if you have any questions, and thanks for your patience.


	58. Chapter 58

**A/N: I don't own Glee, which belongs to Ryan Murphy etc and Fox, nor do I own any of the products or songs you might recognize. I own my original characters, and this story.**

**I feel I've been a very bad author, this story's been neglected so long (I got sidetracked by my other stories, Getting Out the Vote and Don't Tell me 'Cause it Hurts) but I'm back to this one. Really. I swear!**

_**So, here's what you missed on Glee (insert Glee announcer voiceover)** Dinner at the posh Allessandro's went better than great: Blaine's father Michael is moving to Lima, professionally to work on increasing the presence of the firm's Lima branch, but personally to win back his family. Blaine has just driven Kurt home. Meanwhile, Sebastian made good on his threat to make Dave work for his pizza, as he invited him to Dalton to help in Wes' big project, reorganizing the Warblers' rehearsal room and music archives. Dave revealed his hidden talent of landscape design, to the delight of the senior Warblers, and the Warblers revealed their hidden agenda: wanting to welcome him as Sebastian's friend, and sing to him to prove it. So, that's what you missed ;-)_

"Hey, kiddo, you about finished flushing that engine? We've got another customer that needs an oil change, and if you want it, it's got your name on it." Kurt, hidden beneath the car's bulk, didn't see the smile playing across Burt's features.

"Exactly what I want, most in this or any world, dad," Kurt snarked back. It had been a longish, fairly profitable day at the shop for him, but he was tired, looking forward to a good long shower, and knew he had homework to tackle.

"Hey, I can do it if you want, but I thought ..."

Kurt eased himself out, sensing his father's tone, and straightened up immediately. "Blaine!"

Blaine's face lit up in a warm smile as he took in the sight of his beautiful boyfriend, looking adorable in his somewhat rumpled hair that he could see peeking out from the painter-style cap, in his loose fitting coveralls. He had a small black smudge across one cheek that ended on the tip of his nose, which somehow made him even cuter. He felt Burt's eyes on him, and Burt laughed softly before walking away from the two boys. "Hey, Kurt. I wouldn't bring my business anywhere else in Lima. And I thought you might like a coffee break." He held up a Lima Bean cup for him, his other hand holding his own, along with a paper Lima Bean bag.

"Perfect." Kurt beamed at him, and Blaine soaked up how uncomplicated Kurt's happiness was, right there in that moment.

"You're adorable," he crooned. "I'll wait right here."

Kurt scowled for a moment, seeing his face in the mirror when he'd gone to wash up. "Out, out, damned spot" he muttered, trying without complete success to get the grease mark off his face without having to resort to rubbing himself raw. I am so going to stock this place with some better cleansers, he fumed for a moment, but quickly let himself out of the restroom to rejoin Blaine.

"You saw that, didn't you?" he sternly accused his boyfriend.

"Well, it was as plain as the nose on your beautiful face, so I kind of couldn't not notice..."

Kurt's feigned sternness cracked; how to keep that up when Blaine looked at him _like that_, and called him beautiful, to boot? They walked to the picnic table out on the grassy yard outside the back of the shop, and he turned towards his boyfriend and sang,

_You think I'm pretty, without any makeup on_

_You think I'm funny, when I tell the punch line wrong_

_I know you get me, so I let my walls come down, down_

Blaine grinned, and sang back at him,

_Before you met me, I was all right_

_But things were kind of heavy, you brought me to light_

_Now every February, you'll be my Valentine, Valentine!_

They both stopped there, blushing furiously. Kurt reached for his coffee, and grinned, suddenly shy. "What do you do to me? You've got me singing Katy Perry, for God's sake."

"That's because she's awesome!" He came closer to Kurt, not even aware of his actions. "Though if a Gaga song comes to mind for me sometime, I'll return the favor."

"Pinkie swear?"

Blaine honestly didn't know how Kurt could be any cuter, but there it was. His mind happily drifted to a future that included both of them. "Of course. Those are absolutely binding, you know," he added, seriously. What would Kurt think if he knew that the image before him, of Kurt standing there in a golden ray of autumn sunlight, dressed as he was, with the ghost of the smudge still very visible on his nose, would stand out like a snapshot in his memory, as treasured as some of the ones Kurt himself would be most likely to select. He sang to him, "You are perfect, to me."

Kurt smiled, enjoying his coffee, the light breeze, and oblivious to how lovesick Blaine looked just then. He spied the bag Blaine had brought, and gleefully dug into it. "These are so good!"

Blaine woke up from his daydreaming, collecting his face into a teasing look. "Yup. Sesame bagel, your favorite," and meeting Kurt's questioning look, "yes, that's the Neufchatel, not the regular cream cheese."

"You know my bagel order?" he teased.

"Oh, I know lots of your orders," he shot right back.

"Touch_e_. This is fun and all, but I'm starving. Thank you." And he started to devour the treat, before stopping for a moment, and looked over to Blaine. "Oh, um, did you want half?"

Blaine chuckled. He'd hardly ever seen his boyfriend destroy any snack that hungrily. "Ah, no."

"So glad you said that," he smiled, tearing into another bite.

* * *

Burt watched them from inside the shop for a moment, and grinned, soon joined by Finn.

"He's still got a smudge on his nose," Finn commented.

"Blaine doesn't seem to mind."

"No," Finn grinned evilly, "but Kurt might … I'm getting a picture of this in case I ever need to blackmail ..." then he gulped, recalling that this was Kurt's dad he was talking to, and his soon-to-be stepfather. "Just kidding." But he did get the picture on his phone's cel. Burt walked away, nodding his head, and wondering what a household with two sons, both of them maybe dating, would be like to try to run. He took a quick glance at Blaine's van, and went off to get the correct oil filter and oil for Kurt. This was turning out to be a pleasant afternoon at the shop. He knew it wouldn't last; eventually they'd both go to college, at about the same time, too. But right now, he loved this feeling, and looked forward to their simple family dinner, planned for right after they closed the shop for the day.

* * *

Sebastian looked up from his books, grateful for the knock at his door. "It's open," he yelled.

"You ready to go off to dinner, 'Bas?" Wes asked him, David close by as he waited in the hallway.

He unfolded his long body, which protested just a bit on getting up from his desk chair. Just how long had he been sitting there? "A guy's gotta eat. Sure."

"So, um, you have anything to tell us about him?" David asked.

Sebastian raised one brow at him in warning. "And what would that be? That he's my friend; but you already knew that. Has he got other, heretofore undiscovered talents you don't know about? How should I know!" His tone came out a little more exasperated than he wanted it to be there.

"Hey, it's cool. And I think it's a great thing that you had him up. It meant a lot to us to sing that for him, you know. And I'm glad he has you for a friend."

Sebastian looked gratefully at the head of the Warblers' Council. Wes always knew what to say when it counted. "Thanks, Wes. He's all right, you know? I mean, it sucks that he's in a place where he thinks he needs to be in the closet. He can't even talk to his family about it. Really sucks."

Wes studied his face. Sebastian's past was largely a mystery, but he knew the boy wasn't close to his family, and that there had to be a reason for that. "Well, at least he's got you to talk to now, and he can come hang out with the Warblers whenever. As long as he doesn't spy for New Directions," he added, with a smirk.

"Really, Wes? I think I can make him promise that. Not that he was planning on spying."

"I know; just pulling your leg. But I heard one of their co-captains wouldn't mind stooping to spying. Did you hear that she actually spied on Vocal Adrenaline?"

* * *

"Dad, this is a nice place here. Kind of big, though, don't you think?" Cooper looked over to his father, as he reached for his carry on luggage.

"Maybe not forever," Michael answered. "I guess I've got to get you back to the airport. Son?"

"Yeah, dad?"

"I've missed you. Come back sooner, this time?"

"Sure thing, dad. Gotta keep you in line, ya know."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Maybe I deserved that. Okay, definitely I deserved that. But, all kidding aside, never again. I swear. I know now what I want, and I won't give up. On either of them," he added.

**A/N: Yes, really short, sorry. But I'm back to this story, so look for more updates. I also have a question for you, dear readers. Originally, I'd planned this to end after the Dias de los Muertos party (which is soon). However, I do have a solid idea for continuing it now. What do you think? Stay in this 'verse, or not? It's got more of a season 2 or 3 vibe, which to be honest I kind of like (I've explored season 4 elsewhere, as some of you know). I'm a little torn. Blaine is pretty much weaned of his badboy armor, so that was my original thought for pulling it together and ending about now. Or not.**

**Please do let me know, you know I love hearing from you. Let me know what's working for you, what you might want to see more of, and I'll see what I can do; I do love hearing from you, and I thank you for reading.**

**The song is, of course, Teenage Dream by Katy Perry. Did you like Kurt singing part of it to Blaine?**


	59. Chapter 59

**A/N: I don't own Glee, or anything you recognize. I do own my original characters and this story, and present them here for you, dear readers.**

"So, Artie, you had a song to try out for the Dias de los Muertos celebration?"

"Yes, Mr. Schue. I think you'll like it; I think it's in keeping with the theme and all," Artie beamed. "And we're ready to get your approval."

Puck and Sam stepped forward, and Finn counted off over at the drums, and Artie turned his chair to face the rest of the club in the choir room. Mr. Schue took Sam's vacated seat.

Hearing the familiar opening notes of the Beatles song, Sue paused, then decided to slip in and see what they were up to. She caught Mr. Schue's eye and smiled, as the four boys started to sing, in tight harmony.

_There are places I'll remember, all my life, though some have changed_

Blaine was immediately drawn back to Dalton, where he'd picked up the pieces with the help of his friends. He would always love that place; and though he'd been denied going there this year at first because of his parents' drama, he couldn't say he'd change it now. He smiled, and held Kurt's hands in both of his, and gave them a squeeze.

_Some forever, not for better; some have gone, and some remain_

Quinn remembered her old home; from before her pregnancy, back when she was still her daddy's little girl, when getting ready for the Chastity Ball seemed like a big deal. This was gone; her mother had finally divorced him, moved to a smaller (but still very nice) home and welcomed her back long ago. Their new life wasn't perfect, but at least it wasn't built on a lie.

_All these places have their moments, with lovers and friends I still can recall_

Tina thought back to the PanAsian camp where she'd kissed Mike for the first time. Most people would say it wasn't the most romantic place ever, but they'd been themselves there in a way they had never been at McKinley, and with him this year, she was finally comfortable in her own skin. She smiled a little smile at Mike, his arm draped over her shoulders, and saw from his answering smile that he'd just have to know what she'd been thinking. She knew she'd be happy to tell him.

_Some are dead and some are living; in my life I've loved them all_

Santana thought of her abuela, how strongly rooted she made her feel, and how much she wanted to tell her, but it terrified her too. She was trying to work up the courage, and wished she felt as optimistic as Britt did about it.

Blaine glanced over, his suspicion confirmed; Kurt was sitting tall, ramrod straight, his face pale and eyes far away. He sighed, and pulled him into a hug. He knew it never went away, not all the way; Kurt missed his mother, and wasn't very good with goodbyes or deaths. "You okay?" he whispered.

Kurt swallowed and looked into his boyfriend's honey eyes. "I am now."

_But of all these friends and lovers, there is no one compares with you_

He hated it that his memories were so mixed; some of them as clear as a movie, and some of the ones he most wanted to keep were the most elusive. Kurt pulled himself together, and let the warmth of Blaine's body comfort him as he melted into his side. He smiled at him, mouthing 'thank you' and thought how his mother would have loved Blaine.

_Though I know I'll never lose affection, for people and things that went before_

_I know I'll often stop and think about them _

Sue remembered her dear sister, so recently gone. How sometimes this woman the world insisted wasn't smart knew exactly what to say, how her heart was always ready to love, to put away bitterness. She'd always be thankful for the Glee club, who'd sang at her funeral, and for Will, helping her through it. Sure, she'd give him hell when he needed it, and maybe even when he didn't; messing it up with Will Schuester was like getting to torment the little brother she'd never had. But there was no question the sentimental teacher was really all right, and she'd never forget that day.

They finished, and executed a very nice synchronized bow, as all of New Directions, joined by Sue, clapped and hooted their approval.

"Ms. Lopez, your verdict please?" Will gestured, giving her the floor.

"I think," she started, her face a perfect mask, "that this is perfect." And she broke into a huge grin. "I mean, we're gonna need some upbeat tunes, but this one is a classic, and it captures the quiet part of it. I approve."

"Well, it's settled then," he got up, smiling and proud of his kids. "Who's up next?"

* * *

Santana walked over to Kurt, who was busy congratulating Brittany on her party decorations, which did indeed have a prodigious amount of glitter. "Only you, Britt... these are the prettiest skulls ever, they're perfect."

"Lord Tubbington wanted to steal all the glitter, I think he wanted to make drugs for cats or something, but I managed to keep him away from it."

Blaine shrugged and nodded his head. He was beginning to suspect that just maybe Britt was the most amazing deadpan comedian ever. She was so sweet, and he loved the smiles she always brought to Kurt's face when they talked.

"Porcelain, come here." Kurt turned around, to face Santana. "These are for you," she handed him a beautifully decorated Mexican skull candy about the size of a tennis ball, and some paper orange flowers.

"But Santana, do we have enough -"

"Never mind. These are from my family, not the stuff we bought for school."

"Um, thank you –"

"You need to go. Bring them to her. Be happy at her graveside, telling her your favorite memories, and all about what's going on in your life that she'd want to know. These are for you, to share with her." Santana's face was serious, concerned.

"I … I don't know if I can do that, I mean -"

"You need to, Kurt. You need to give yourself permission to ditch the long face when you visit her, or think of her. You owe her, and her memories, so much more than that."

Blaine joined his side, sensing Kurt's distress, and looked at Kurt, who looked like he wanted to cry. "I don't have what you have, Santana. I wish I did, but I just don't believe in the afterlife, the way you do..."

"It's not about that," she snapped. "Our loved ones' spirits are with us, always, making us what we are, and should be remembered, at least once a year, with joy for the gift they were, when they were here. This isn't to make you feel bad, Kurt, it's to make you feel _better_. Trust me, it's good."

They both were temporarily speechless. When did Santana ever give a speech like that? Britt leaned forward and planted a cute kiss on his nose. "You'll do it when you're ready. I know you will," she murmured to Kurt. "Santana's always right."

Kurt inhaled, and looked at Santana, eyes a little watery, but with a small smile on his face. "Honey, thank you for thinking of me. These are so nice. I'll definitely bring them to her, and I'll try to do what you said."

"Good choice," she shot back, and gestured for Britt to join her, and they left the choir room.

"Will you go with me, Blaine?"

"Of course I will. Always." And he reached his arms out to hold him in a gentle hug, and they shared a kiss.

* * *

"So, madame chief accountant, what do you think?" He leaned over, close to her ear, and delighted in how flustered she became.

"I think my boss has no idea of boundaries," she groused.

"I think you're right, we need to take this into my office. Right away," Michael teased Christine.

"Fine, I'll go, if only to keep you in line. For which I should get extra pay," she snarked.

Opening the door to his office for her, he waited until she was seated at the round mini conference table, closed the door, and joined her. "You know, keeping me in line might have been easier out there; this is just too tempting."

"Michael. We are at work."

He faked surprise, looking around him. "Oh, right." He scooted his chair in closer to her. "I've missed you, so much. I would have thought seeing you here all the time in the new office would make it easier, but it doesn't. I miss you so much. Can I break the boundaries here, a moment?"

She smiled warmly at him. He'd settled into the Lima office in record time, and was full of proposals for expanding the business, and redesigning the space, once they acquired the office suite next door, which they'd have by next month. "Does it matter if I give you permission?" she teased him.

"Yes. Very much so. Will you come to my place, for dinner?"

"You're cooking? Should I be worried?"

"I didn't say I was cooking. Stop leading the witness. Will you come? Both of you?" His handsome face was close to hers, but far enough away that she could see that he was pleading, hoping for a yes.

"Tonight? All right. Should I worry about ulterior motives, Mr. Anderson?" She teased him, easing a foot out of her dress shoe, and snaking it up against his ankle, loving the look of shocked happiness that took over his face.

"Um, ah, I think you have every reason to wonder. How could I not?" He didn't know how long he could stand her doing that, it was driving him crazy, and he backed up his chair, out of her reach. "Chris?"

"Yes, Michael?"

"This is hard. Harder than I thought. Do you have any idea how distracting you are to me?"

"Maybe a little." She caught his hastily covered up crestfallen expression. "Maybe more than a little." She walked over to the door, and locked it. He got up, and was greeted with her open arms, her face tilted up towards his, and he stooped down to kiss her lips. She pulled away after a moment, giggling. "Silly man. Easier if you'd remained seated."

He grinned broadly. He knew his wife; he'd missed her playfulness, and his heart soared at its return. The one woman who wouldn't take shit from him, who would only be charmed by him when she wanted to be, and knew exactly how to make him laugh. And she was so adorable to boot. Her teasing, which she knew he couldn't resist, meant everything, and gave him hope. God, he'd never get able to get any work done, not until they'd worked this out. Somehow, at that moment, he didn't care at all.

**A/N: In My Life, by the lovely Beatles, is used with love and affection.**

**I hope you've enjoyed this shortish chapter, and you know I love hearing from you. I may indeed carry this further, though in what form, I'm still undecided. **

**Thanks for reading, and you know I love hearing from you, always.**


	60. Chapter 60

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any songs or products you might recognize. Warning: description of violence; skip to next chapter or PM me if you prefer.**

"I hope this doesn't take too long, I'm starved," Finn grumped, as they made their way to the gym.

"Finn! We need you, and besides, it'll go faster with you, you know that," Rachel scolded. "Do we have everything?"

"Calm down, Berry, and when did this turn into _your_ thing anyway? Besides, Britt and I got like _half_ of it done already, between lunch and skipping out on Geography." Santana smirked at Rachel's shocked expression. "Oh, get over it, hobbit. Anyway, Frankenteen, getting back to your earlier comment, this shouldn't take all that long. Besides, if you're good, maybe we'll share some traditional treats."

Kurt and Blaine followed behind the Glee co-captains, and Kurt couldn't suppress his fit of giggles. "And if you, Flouncy Smurf, can untangle from your boyfriend long enough, we might actually get it done fast and have it look totally fabulous." Santana grinned evilly at Kurt's slack expression. "And Blaine – no texting while we check the sound system."

Blaine attempted a glare thrown her way, but ruined it by laughing. They shared Spanish class first period, which she ignored since she was already quite proficient at it, and it was too easy for him, compared to the level he'd left at Dalton. Besides, he usually spent half that period texting Kurt, who was in French at that time. Kurt, however, truly liked French class, and pretended to be put out by Blaine's texting (though Artie, who was in French with him, would attest that if he didn't get a silly text, or several, from Blaine in that period, he would sulk until lunchtime).

* * *

Finn had way too much fun putting up decorations, as anyone could see. For what he couldn't reach (and Santana and Brittany had left all the high up stuff for him on purpose, it was just easier) he simply hoisted Rachel up and let her finish.

Coach Sue strode into the gymnasium. "Santana, Porcelain, I'm putting you in charge of this," and she passed them a plastic lidded box, filled with the sound equipment the Cheerios used for special singing numbers. They were both very familiar with the expensive equipment, which was of better quality than anything New Directions owned. "Make sure it all gets back to me in perfect condition. Oh, and Blaine, you can consider this your tryout for the halftime number." And she strode back out.

"But Coach!" Blaine spluttered to her retreating form. "I'm on the football team," he complained to Kurt and anyone who'd listen.

"As kicker, dude. I guess she thinks she can just borrow you -"

"Hey!" Blaine answered Finn.

"Consider it a compliment. And, this way we get to use the best sound equipment," Rachel bounced a little with a look of sheer happiness. "This is Broadway level stuff here. Thank you, Blaine!"

"But I had nothing to do with it..." he trailed off, sounding confused. Blaine pouted, and turned to his boyfriend, who was failing to keep the smile off his face. He narrowed his eyes and whispered in a low voice, "I think I got more respect with my old look."

"No, honey, Coach Sue would be just as happy to boss you around no matter what you were wearing, don't kid yourself," and Kurt planted a kiss on Blaine's nose. "We'll work this out later." He knew what Coach Sue had in mind, and had to say he approved. She had even confided to him that Coach Beiste had already given her consent, seeing as how he'd only potentially miss maybe one kickoff with wardrobe changes, and the second string kicker could manage that.

Mr. Schue joined them. "Wow! Santana, Britt, everyone, this looks really amazing! This is going to be so good!"

"Of course it is. I wouldn't have it any other way," Santana smiled back, proudly surveying their work.

"All right. So now we need to pull the stage forward, and we can do sound checks with the music."

Kurt and Santana fitted everyone with their Lavalier mics, and they ran through their last number, since it was everyone's favorite, and had lots of solo lines as well as ensemble parts.

"Sounds great, we just have a few more to run through. Just remember, this is a performance, so no texting or any phones on you for any of it, just like any competition," and Mr. Schue shot a glance at Blaine, the most notorious texter in the group.

"What?" he tried to laugh it off, even as he felt a little uncomfortable at getting called out, and he reflexively reached for his phone.

"You okay?" He heard Kurt's voice close to his ear.

"Um, yeah … just can't find my phone. Damn!" He fretted a bit; it was expensive, and he couldn't remember if he'd bothered to lock his locker or not. "Mr. Schue, do you mind if I go to my locker for a minute?"

"It's fine, Blaine, just be right back."

* * *

It's probably fine, he muttered inwardly, but he didn't like the naked feeling he had. Kurt had teased him before about his attachment to his phone, his ipod, laptop, etc. He just hated the naked, vulnerable feeling of not being able to call anyone, just in case.

He rounded the corner with considerable relief – almost there – when he saw Rick the Stick and his minions, hanging out right near his own locker.

* * *

"Did you hear that?" Kurt asked no one in particular. The sounds he'd heard were indistinct speech, but they did come from the speakers. He couldn't make out the words, and New Directions was getting ready for their next piece.

_You're lying!_

Everyone heard that. It was Blaine's voice, and it sounded clear, and angry. And very loud.

"What the – ?" Mr. Schue leaned forward. There was no need to tell anyone to be quiet, but they couldn't really make out what came next.

The Lavalier. Kurt's heart sunk – Blaine hadn't turned his off, and it was picking him up perfectly, but not whoever he was talking to.

_No. That doesn't make any sense. How could you –_

Oh God, Blaine sounded panicked. Kurt stared at the speakers in horror, frozen, along with his friends.

Finn stood up straight, and called out to the guys. "He was on his way to his locker. C'mon. Now!"

Kurt started to shake himself out of his shocked inaction to lead them there, but they all froze in horror as they heard Blaine's voice again.

_Fine. I'll go with you. Just let him go. Please._

Blaine sounded scared now, and on that last word, begging. Finn gave Kurt a hard push, and they started to run.

_We're off school grounds now, faggot. _This voice wasn't as clear as Blaine's, but he must've been standing very close to him.

_You said if I came with you, you'd let Kurt go!_

_Yeah, well that's easy to do, since we don't have him yet._

And the sound went dead, or rather, became horribly distorted, then went out. Artie was still in the gym, along with a couple of the girls.

"That doesn't sound good" he stated.

"It sounds like the guys didn't find him yet – shit!" Santana cursed.

"I think I know where they are, I pass by where those guys hang out when I go home from school," Mercedes said. "C'mon – we've got to get there fast!"

* * *

"Damn it, where is he!" Finn yelled, his face turned bright red, raking his hair in frustration.

"Chill, we're on this," Puck said. "Mike, Sam, Joe, you go to the South Parking lot, we'll head to the North and East ones. Go."

The guys raced, trying to find Blaine. Kurt was now speechless, lost in the horror of wondering what was happening, and feeling very sick.

* * *

"I will fucking _cut_ you, stick boy, if you don't let -"

"Ooh, Santana, I didn't know you like to play rough. And here you are, coming for little old me," the tall redheaded boy drawled. "But maybe another day," and he went to the driver's door of his car.

They all head a loud thump, coming from the trunk of the ancient Lincoln Rick drove.

"I just might cut you either way, you stupid shit," her voice dripped acid. "Let him out now and I may let you live."

"Santana!" Kurt's yell broke the chilly air, as he ran, followed by Finn, Puck, and Mr. Schue.

"How the fuck did you -"

"It doesn't matter, asshole. Open the trunk." She stepped closer, invading his space. "Now."

Kurt and joined her side. "What have you done? Let him go, Rick!"

They all turned their heads to the thunks emanating from the trunk.

Mr. Schue caught up. "Rick, you are already in serious trouble. You, and your friends too," he gestured to the guys already in Rick's car. "Let him out now, before you make it even worse on yourself."

"What? It's just one of my guys. Harmless prank. Nothing to –"

"Get the fuck out of my way." Kurt pushed Rick aside hard, reached into the space near the open driver's door, and the lid of the trunk popped open. Kurt raced to the back of the car, already surrounded by New Directions members.

"Oh, dude." Puck reached in first, his eyes full of compassion for the terrified teen, and he reached in to pull him closer, then went to untie the rag around Blaine's mouth. He jumped back, as Blaine promptly vomited all over the trunk.

"We got you, you're gonna be okay," Finn said nervously, as he moved to undo the tight bungee cord binding Blaine's wrists.

* * *

"Are you sure you're going to want to go in tomorrow?" Kurt looked nervously at Blaine, who hours later still looked pale, and was still shaking from time to time as they shared a quilt, watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire mindlessly.

"I'm sure. I'll be all right, I swear. I kind of feel like I owe Coach Sue now," he attempted to joke.

"And you don't think she'll want to take full credit?" Kurt smiled back, and kissed Blaine's still damp hair.

"Oh, I'm sure she will. And, if Rick weren't going to be expelled under the new rules, she'd kill him anyway, for ruining the Lavalier."

"I love her. Is that so wrong?" Kurt teased.

"I don't share," Blaine growled back, and Kurt sighed happily, as Blaine sounded much more himself. And for the first time that awful evening, he became aware of his proximity in another way, and growled back, "good. Neither do I," and showered him with kisses and caresses.

* * *

Later that evening, they overheard Blaine's mom talking on the phone. "No, Michael, the school is handling it. They have plenty of evidence." She paused, listening. "Again, really, he's all right." Another pause. "No, I don't know about that. How would I know that?"

Michael Anderson himself appeared there shortly after.

"Blaine? Can you sit up so I can look at you?"

"Dad."

He threw himself into Blaine's outstretched arms, as Christine and Kurt looked on. The father's face was deathly pale as he held his son to his chest, his eyes slammed shut. "Son, are you sure you're all right?"

"I am now. I know I don't look so great, but I'm okay, thank God."

Michael's brow furrowed as he took in his son's black eye and bruised face. "Where else? Where else are you hurt?"

Sighing, Blaine lifted his shirt, showing a couple of lurid bruises on his torso.

He looked at his son intently. "Tell me they're in jail."

* * *

Blaine drifted off to sleep not long after, his arms wrapped around Kurt, as his father called first Mr. Schue, then Principal Figgins, then the county jail (which resisted telling him anything at first, but buckled when he started yelling legalese).

He slammed the phone into its holder in the kitchen. "God damn it, Christine, why the hell him? This is so fucking unfair." She knew that voice; she reacted immediately, holding him, as his anger turned to sorrow, and she saw a side of Michael Anderson no one but her ever saw. She held him as he broke down, and guided him upstairs, to her room, away from the boys.

* * *

"No, Mr. Schue, don't cancel it. I mean, Blaine made all the effort to actually _be_ here today for this, and … well, screw them! They don't get to decide what we do or don't do. Assholes are in jail, anyway."

Mr. Schue stood with Santana outside the Spanish classroom before first period. "You're right. Thank you, Santana." He looked down the hall at nothing in particular. "When I think what might have happened..."

"Don't." Her tone was firm. "It didn't. He was wrong anyway; taking him off campus wouldn't have made the penalty any lighter." She smirked, "gotta hand it to him, that kid is a fighter."

Kurt overheard her, as he rounded the corner with Blaine. "You have no idea."

Meanwhile, the senior Anderson was waging his own fight, pressing for maximum penalties for now not only Rick, but the two other guys who'd been in the car with him and had participated in luring Blaine out, restraining him, and stowing him in the trunk. Brian, who had been with them in the beginning, but had refused to play along once he knew what Rick planned, had been picked up for questioning and was now eagerly cooperating with police, hoping to get out of this unscathed, since he hadn't laid a hand on Blaine or accompanied them when they left the building. No one could confirm or deny his assertion that he was going to try to find someone at the principal's office (which was locked and empty at the time) but he was adamant in sticking to his story.

Michael left the questioning area of the county jail, flanked by the local District Attorney. "John, I do believe that Brian kid. Under separate questioning, all three of the other scumbags pretty much said word for word what he just told us: I think he wanted no part of it. He's a damn good witness for us."

"For me, Michael. You're staying away from this case."

"Shit I am! I will do whatever I can to help, and make sure those psychos never get out." His voice broke a little as he continued, "they got there in time, John. What if they hadn't?"

John McCartney didn't answer. Didn't want to; was only glad that instead of a grieving father, he was facing an enraged, militant one. "He's got good friends. You'll get your exposure on this, and sentences. I want it as much as you do."

"I want all three of them, not just the ringleader."

The DA smiled at him. "I do too. I damn want them all locked away. I'm on it."

Michael stood alone, until his wife joined his side from across the office. "Chris, I'm so glad you're here," he murmured, kissing her hair and drawing her beside him.

"C'mon. We've got a show to watch later. Let me get you away from here and go get some lunch."

He let himself be led out by his tiny, determined wife. "I can't tell you how glad I am that we'll be able to do that."

**A/N: [Ducking for cover] He'll make a full recovery, I swear it! I'd love to pepper you with spoilers, but I won't (but for anyone who's anxious, and would just as soon know whatever it is that's worrying you, just say so in a review or PM, and I'll answer).**

**I promise we'll be back for _fun_ next chapter (lots, actually), and I think you'll love it.**


	61. Chapter 61

**A/N: I don't own Glee, or any songs or products you may recognize here, and this fiction is noncommercial in nature. **

**Enjoy! _Fluff alert! _**

**_How's he doing?_ **Santana looked at her phone, and made a face at it as she read the message. She hesitated before replying, a little unsure of what she was seeing. **He's just sitting up, very straight, and he's been quiet, paying attention to the lesson, LOL. Why not ask him yourself, Flouncy Smurf?**

Kurt smirked at her message. He'd never admit to her that he kind of loved her snarky nicknames, even if he didn't love the one she gave him. _**Because I did. He said he was 'fine'.**_

**Do you want me to keep him here until you get here? **His gaze shifted longingly towards the door, and he tapped out an answer. **_That would be perfect – thanks, Satan. _**He smiled at the superfast response – girl had fast fingers! **You know you owe me. **He answered just as quickly.** _Understood_.**

Kurt shifted uncomfortably in his seat; Blaine had indeed tried to convince him he was fine, and had somehow talked his parents letting him come in. But he'd seemed off, disengaged. Was it because he was hiding his feelings from him? Kurt was pretty sure he was, but he was also a master of putting on a front himself, and what he saw didn't remind him of himself when he'd done just that, but rather of a shocked version of Blaine. Quietly sitting at attention, being a model student might sound just like Blaine to most of their Glee club friends, but Spanish was a class he didn't even need to try to ace, and the usual silly texts from Blaine were missing. And he knew they didn't even have a test today.

Kurt leaned across to whisper to Artie. "Can you be late for homeroom?"

Artie furrowed his brow at his friend. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Really, Artie, Pinky and the Brain? I refuse to be Pinky, and that is final." Artie smirked at him, happy at Kurt's bitchy, teasing tone. He was worried about both of them.

"If you mean, go meet Blaine and walk him to homeroom, I'm in, well, in a manner of speaking," he gestured at his chair. "I got yo' back, bro."

Kurt smiled back, and tried to focus on the rest of the lesson.

* * *

Michael Anderson was holding his wife's hand, and had almost reached his car when his phone vibrated. He accepted the call immediately, as his wife saw his face transition in an instant to one of taut attention. "Hello?" She watched him, and saw his expression darken.

"Yes, John, that makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that?" He nodded, listening, checked his watch, and answered back, "no problem. We'll be there. Thanks. For everything."

He replaced his phone back into his pocket, and looked down at Christine. "We've got to get pick Blaine up; the forensics team wants to examine Blaine's injuries and document them, since they're part of the evidence."

"When?"

"Right now. Sooner the better."

* * *

"Blaine? Hold up a minute, we've gotta talk to Mr. Schue about the festival today." She didn't figure it would be hard to get his cooperation, but just in case, Santana had used her very best Coach Sue tone to make it clear this wasn't up for discussion.

"Um, ah, I guess. What's left to do, anyway?" Blaine trailed after her, and they walked to the front of the class.

"Just making sure it's all ready." She didn't want to mention how and why they'd been interrupted in their final plans. She knew it was all set, as she'd gone back after to the gym herself, along with Artie and Mike, to make sure the sound equipment was secured, and the decorations in place to her specifications. Principal Figgins and the board had approved the use of the gym, so no one would disturb it today. But it was a good way to stall.

"Santana, Blaine. The gym's locked tight, it all looks good," Mr. Schue told them right off. His voice dropped to a near whisper as he addressed Blaine. "Are you sure? You don't have to be here today, you know. It's all right."

"No, I want to be here, and I want to perform."

Mr. Schue studied Blaine's face. He had an unmistakable black eye, and some bruising across his face. He was moving all right, but he questioned the boy's composure: what had happened to him was nothing short of terrifying, and he wasn't sure he believed him. He reached out, and gently put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "We're here for you, you know that. Including if you need to go."

Blaine bit back tears, willing himself to keep calm for the hundredth time that morning. His gratitude towards the Glee club, especially after yesterday, was more than he could express out loud without totally losing it. At that moment he felt the subtle pressure of Santana, leaning slightly against his side. The contact calmed him, along with his teacher's. "I know."

Santana shot a glance towards the door to the hallway, wondering when Kurt would get here. "I think we have enough traditional treats to sell to pay for a bus to Sectionals."

Glad of a change of topic, her teacher answered, "That really would be great. They look fantastic, Santana, and no one around here has seen anything like these – I think they're going to sell really well."

She smiled under the praise. Between the authentic Mexican skull and bone candies she'd arranged to have purchased in bulk from a contact in New Mexico her parents knew, and the decorated cupcakes members of the Glee club had made (Ms. Pillsbury had contributed a very cute batch that she'd made herself, too), the snack table would be a great draw. The Lima Bean had agreed to donate a huge container full of iced tea for them to sell to go with the treats, so that would be pure profit.

"Good, I'm glad. The Lima Bean said they'd deliver the iced tea and cups and stuff by last period, so that's everything."

Just then they were joined by Kurt and Artie. "Hey, sweetie," Kurt softly greeted Blaine. "You okay?"

Blaine grinned, turning to his boyfriend. "Even better now. Hey, Artie."

"Hey, Blaine. Mr. Schue, I guess we better get to our homerooms," Artie said.

The teacher smiled, seeing now what his students had done, and glad they were going as a group to walk with Blaine. Whether the boy acknowledged it or not, he had to be feeling nervous, and he didn't want him walking the halls without a few friends by his side either. "Artie's right. See you all later. It's going to be great!"

Kurt grabbed Blaine's arm protectively as they headed to the door, but then let go as they got ready to join the rest of the student body in the hallway.

"Kurt, I'm going to make it to mine, but you're going to be late – your homeroom is clear on the other side of the building." Blaine really was grateful for his presence, but really didn't want to make any trouble for him.

"Blaine," Kurt almost whispered, "I just don't care. I just want to walk with you." He didn't say more, not even wanting to mention what he was thinking that second, as they rounded the corner to go down _that_ hallway. The one where Blaine's locker was...

It registered for Blaine at about the same moment Kurt thought of it: somehow the sight of his locker, and what had happened on this spot yesterday, hit him hard. All the composure he thought he had summoned started to fade, as Kurt and his friends watched in dismay as Blaine went white, then leaned against the wall, suddenly unsteady.

"Blaine!" Kurt had to crouch then, as Blaine lowered himself to the floor, his back to the wall, legs then tightly drawn up to his body. Santana stood in front of them both, glaring at anyone who looked their way, and ensuring that stragglers on their way to homeroom backed off. Artie positioned his chair beside Kurt, blocking them off as best he could.

Blaine was oblivious to all but Kurt, crouching beside him. "Honey," Kurt whispered, "you're safe. You're okay. We're here with you."

Blaine didn't speak, but just nodded, then finally met Kurt's gaze. "Just help me stand up."

Kurt stood, and reached for Blaine's outstretched hands. His worry increased as the hands he held were icy and clammy. Blaine looked unsteady to him, but he stood up tall.

"Breathe, hobbit," and at that Blaine smiled a weak smile at Santana, and did as she commanded. He wondered if he felt better for doing what she said, or if her nickname somehow brought him out of the memory that had oppressed him. "A few more breaths. Slow ones. Good." Reaching into her bag, she fished out her Cheerios insignia water bottle. "Drink."

They were still there, now alone in the hallway, when they were met by Coach Sue, leading the senior Andersons to find Blaine.

Sue smiled, glad that he wasn't alone, and that they'd clearly stayed to make Blaine feel more secure. She took in the scene in front of her, and surmised what had caused the boy to look so shell shocked: this was the hallway he'd been accosted at and taken from. She scowled darkly; the perpetrators were all in custody; maybe just as well, since if she had the pleasure of hunting them down herself she knew it would take every ounce of self control she had not to maim them before handing them in.

"Blaine, I'm glad we found you," Michael stated. "We've got to take you to forensics." He took more notice of the youths surrounding his son, but decided to go on. "They need to examine you, and document your injuries."

Kurt nodded, understanding right away, as did Artie and Santana. Blaine looked a little dazed still.

"Wheels, Santana, with me. I'll give you passes, and you can go to your own homerooms." They nodded at Sue's crisp commands.

Christine addressed them before they left. "Thank you, so much, for … walking with him, staying by him." She didn't trust her voice to say more, feeling tears that were ready to return if she tried.

"Any time, Mrs. A.," Artie answered, and Santana nodded in agreement. And they left, to follow Coach Sue.

"Kurt," Michael turned to him, "will you come with us?"

Blaine suddenly shook himself from his distracted state, watching his father talk to his boyfriend. His father went on, "I think Blaine would appreciate having you, and so would we." Michael looked down to his wife, who added, "please?"

Kurt smiled at them. "Thank you, that's … that's exactly what I want to do."

Blaine's color started to return, and he addressed his parents. "Mom, dad, will this take a long time?"

"No, son, but it's important. It's evidence." Michael looked closely at his son. "You don't have to come back today, son, it's too soon, I think."

"I – I want to try. Please."

"Honey, we'll see how it goes. But right now, we've got to go, they're expecting us," his mother said.

* * *

The process had been fast, as promised, and pretty straightforward; the forensic team's medical branch was efficient and friendly, and used to dealing with victims of all sorts of crimes. After a brief physical exam, a few xrays, and a lot of photographs, they were on their way.

Blaine had avoided looking at his injuries to this point, any more than he had to, like when he'd gotten ready for school this morning. In the harsh fluorescent lighting, the marks left by the shoves and hits to his torso were lurid, and the bruised areas all hurt to the touch. They'd learned that he had a couple of cracked ribs (which really couldn't be treated other than with time), and that his nose wasn't broken, just sore (which Blaine could have told them himself). As professional, caring, and fast as the team was, he was still incredibly relieved to get out of the building.

Joining his father and Kurt after the ordeal (they'd allowed his mother to stay for all of it except the chest xrays) he noticed he was hungry.

"All right, sport?" His father tried to sound upbeat. Michael didn't tell him all he knew; that Blaine would also face a psych eval to see how bad the damage there was. That would be longer, and probably harder for Blaine. He doesn't need to know he'll be facing that, not today, the attorney told himself. Looking to Kurt, he teased, "and I think I owe Kurt some pastry. Tradition, you know."

Kurt laughed out loud at that, and that seemed to ease the tension for everyone a bit. "I do eat other things, you know," he managed after a few moments.

"You're turning me down now?" Michael teased back. "I'm hurt!"

Christine smiled, enjoying their bantering tone. "I'm choosing the coffee shop, I know just the place. And yes, the pastry there is to die for. And the coffee, Blaine, remember, they have your favorite."

"Awesome!" She smiled, as he finally sounded like her boy. "Kurt, this is the one coffee the Lima Bean doesn't have that I really love: El Salvador Peaberry!" He chattered on as they walked to the car. "This stuff is so good, I mean this is the only coffee I've ever wanted to drink black, it's not bitter at all. You have got to try that."

"Wow, Blaine, that stuff must be nearly magical – you sound caffeinated just from thinking about it," Kurt teased. "Of course I'll try it."

Michael smiled, watching his suddenly animated, restored-looking son. "I'm so glad we brought Kurt."

"I know," she said softly. "He's good for him." She stretched up on her tiptoes, and seeing this, he unconsciously leaned down, and she kissed his cheek. "I'm so glad you see it too."

* * *

Michael was initially irked at how stubborn Blaine was, insisting that he really did want to return to school, to go to the rest of his classes, and perform later for the Dias de Los Muertos festival. His efforts to convince him to take the day off hadn't flown at all. Christine turned to him as they sat in the car, in the parking lot.

"What if I got permission for Blaine to perform, but be excused from classes for the day?" His mom suggested. Usual school rules didn't allow a student who'd been out that day to participate in extracurriculars.

Blaine didn't want to say yes; sitting there with Kurt beside him, his beautiful Kurt, who loved him and made him laugh, and made him feel whole, he knew that he didn't want to be apart from him. Michael turned around to face them again, exasperation written clearly on his face. He harumphed, and faced forward, after Blaine's polite refusal, and took out his Blackberry and composed and sent a message. He stared ahead, hoping for a quick answer. He grinned as it showed up, just a minute later. "Yes!"

Christine looked at him, wondering what had made him so happy, all of a sudden. He showed her the text, and she nodded, and reached over to peck him on the cheek.

"All right, Blaine, here's my counter offer. Principal Figgins just gave permission for both of you to be out for today, and still join in for the festival." Michael smiled triumphantly, sure that he was now offering terms his son couldn't refuse.

"Sweetie, you do look tired," his mom added.

"Kurt?" Blaine lifted his eyebrows, searching for his answer.

"Not even a question. Mr. Anderson, do you win all your negotiations?" Kurt smirked, sharing a look with Blaine's father, who now was regarding him as a sort of accomplice.

"Only the important ones, Kurt."

"Don't believe him," Christine joined in, laughing, "they're _all_ important to him."

Michael whispered into her ear, fixing her with a pleading look. No, she nodded back, then answered him just as quietly, leaving Blaine to wonder what that was all about. He tried again, and again she nodded no, but whatever she said seemed to placate him a little.

Christine turned to them. "We're going to go home. Blaine, you look exhausted. You two can just hang out, we'll have some lunch, and later you'll join the Glee club for the festival. Your father and I cleared our calendar of most everything, so we'll watch you perform, if that's all right."

Blaine's smile was so broad, so happy. "Mom, dad, that would be great. I'd love that."

* * *

After lunch, Christine and Michael turned towards the boys, who were sprawled on the carpet in front of the couch, watching Groundhog Day (she swore Blaine must have seen it twenty times). "Boys, we've just got a few things to do at the office, and your father had one appointment he didn't want to cancel. We'll be by to pick you up in time for the festival, all right?"

"Sure thing, mom," Blaine smiled at her.

"Call us if you need anything at all," Michael added. "I'm glad you're getting some rest, Blaine." Looking at Kurt, he went on. "Don't let him drink any more coffee, kid looks exhausted."

Kurt smiled at Michael's playful tone. "Noted. Blaine. No coffee. Got it."

Michael laughed. "Good. Later, guys."

Blaine perked up, realizing he was now alone with his boyfriend for a few hours, no homework to do, nowhere to go, hanging out in his cozy living room. "You didn't mean it, about no coffee, right?"

Kurt's eyes widened, but he wasn't about to give in to Blaine's puppy eyes. "You do know, that just because you're hanging out at home, doesn't mean you have to have more coffee, right? I worry about you, Blainers, really, I do," he teased. "But no, no coffee for you." Seeing the mock tragedian face his boyfriend pulled, he added, "are you really sure you can't think of anything else for us to do?"

Blaine didn't answer him, but instead pulled Kurt into a kiss, which quickly deepened, and they lost themselves in the feelings of love and excitement as lips and tongues danced, and their hands caressed each other. Kurt leaped back when Blaine made a noise that was clearly pain, not passion. "Blaine, honey?"

"It's just that place on my side," he pointed. "Cracked rib. Yay. No mood kill, though, okay? I won't break, I swear it."

Kurt smiled indulgently at his pleading look. "Maybe … seeing as how you're injured and all … this would be more, um, comfortable, somewhere other than the floor."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Blaine waggled his triangular brows suggestively.

"Not again!" Kurt spluttered, then dissolved in laughter.

"Hnh?" Blaine really was confused.

"That's the second time I've heard that today. What're the chances?" He stood up, and reached down to Blaine. "Yes, _Pinky_, evidently I am. Let's go."

"Wait, I'm Pinky now?" Blaine looked cutely confused. _He'd_ asked the question, after all.

"We going," Kurt nodded his chin towards Blaine's room, "or not?"

"Going," Blaine answered. "Definitely going."

* * *

A couple of hours later, the Andersons returned. Not finding the boys in the living room or the kitchen, they walked upstairs. Blaine was sleeping, curled up on the bed, his arm flung across the bed, his hand resting on Kurt's side. Kurt was on top of the covers, sleeping with a cute smile on his face.

"I hate to wake them," Christine whispered.

"But they don't want to miss anything. It's all right," he whispered back. He squatted down, bringing his head to Blaine's level, and gave his son's shoulder a shake. "Blaine. Hey, sport, time to wake up."

Kurt woke up first, alarmed that he'd fallen asleep, but quickly calmed down, seeing the benign looks on Blaine's parents' faces. "Um, hi, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson. I kept him away from the coffee, just like you said."

Michael chuckled. "Good job, Kurt. Looks like you both needed a nap."

"Hey, dad," Blaine mumbled sleepily. "Mom. Wow, is it really that late?" And they all watched as he practically snapped to full alertness. "Kurt, we've got to get going. Um, your hair..."

Kurt's eyebrows shot up, as he imagined the worst, and he glared, as his boyfriend had the nerve to join in his parents' giggling. He gave up in a moment, and joined them, getting a good look at Blaine's disorganized 'do. "They're right. Blaine, we really have to get ready!"

**A/N: I'm forgiven, I hope? And well, Artie and our boys are dorky enough to be Pinky and the Brain fans, I think (my kids are, and they're about the same age). I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next: Dias de los Muertos! Yay!**

**And, for a limited time only (until next chapter, probably) we present: an Easter egg, just for you. Curious about what Michael whispered to Christine in the car that the boys didn't hear? It's not going to make it into any chapter, but if you'd just like to know, review or leave me a message. It's just fun, nice to know, and not absolutely essential for the plot (though it will come into the plot, in a way, later). I do respond to all reviews (unless they're from a guest, and then I can't).**

**Hope all of you are having a great December! 12.13.2012**


	62. Chapter 62

**A/N: And now, a word from the Department of Standard Disclaimers: I don't own Glee, or any songs or products you may recognize here, and this fiction is noncommercial in nature. **

Christine was glad the bathroom had a double sink and mirror set-up; both boys were serious in their intent to get their hair just the way they wanted it before going anywhere.

"Not to rush or anything, but if you want to go when you said you wanted to..." Michael's voice trailed off, wondering what to expect. He was pleased when they joined him a couple of minutes later, Kurt's hair done to his usual standard, and Blaine's the way he had started to do it lately, with just a bit of mouse, his short curls lightly framing his face and neck. Blaine had also changed into fitted black dress slacks, crisp white shirt, a black jacquard vest, and a crimson tie.

"You look good," Michael smiled at his son, Christine joining him from the kitchen, hearing the boys coming down.

"You really do," she added.

"Thanks. We've got to get back so Kurt can change too, for the performance."

Kurt nodded, and took in the sight of his boyfriend once again. He loved everything about how this competition uniform looked on him, and thought with certainty that he'd rock this look better than anyone in New Directions, himself included. "No problem, it's in the choir room, and we've got time. I didn't think I needed a nap, but it was kind of nice."

* * *

Last period hadn't ended, but they weren't the first into the choir room. Actually, it was already full, which surprised them both, as they said goodbye for a while to Michael and Christine.

"How are you all here already? We're not performing first now, are we?" Kurt asked his teacher.

"No, no change in the program, Kurt. You can go change, and we'll get ready." Mr. Schue added in an undertone, "be quick."

Something about his tone drew Kurt's attention, and without further comment Kurt grabbed the bag with his competition garb and headed to the bathroom to change, quickly finishing with tying his tie, and dashed back to the room. Mr. Schue caught his eye, and motioned for him to sit in the front row, beside Blaine.

"What's going on?" Kurt whispered to Blaine.

"I don't know," his boyfriend answered quietly.

Mr. Schue took a seat beside Blaine, and the rest of the New Directions stood in the front, facing them. Brad smiled at them from behind his piano.

"We have a song for you," Rachel announced, addressing Blaine, then looking at Kurt too. "And, actually, it was Brad's idea, so this is sort of from him too."

The piano player nodded, then started playing the opening notes of the song. Kurt smiled, and Blaine looked to his friends with a look of happiness, and disbelief as Finn and Puck stepped forward to sing the first lines.

_When you're weary, feeling small_

Santana and Brittany stepped forward, singing the next line

_When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all_

They stepped back as they all sang in quiet harmony now

_I'm on your side, oh when times get rough_

_And friends just can't be found_

_Like a bridge over troubled water_

_I will lay me down_

The sweet notes of Brad's playing returned, and Kurt saw Blaine's eyes start to fill, as he watched the performance intently, smiling at each of the singers as they made eye contact.

Mike, Joe and Artie stepped forward next, and watched Brad for their cue.

_When you're down and out_

_When you're on the street_

_When evening falls so hard,_

_I will comfort you_

They stepped back as Rachel and Quinn shared a smile and stepped forward to sing

_I'll take your part, Oh when darkness comes_

_And pain is all around_

_Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down_

They were joined again by the whole group

_Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down._

Tina, Sugar, and Mercedes stepped forward.

_Sail on silver girl. Sail on by!_

_Your time has come to shine, all your dreams are on their way_

Mr. Schue stood up to sing with the whole group next

_See how they shine! Oh, if you need a friend,_

_I'm sailing right behind._

_Like a bridge over troubled water,_

_I will ease your mind._

_Like a bridge over troubled water_

_I will ease your mind._

They somehow waited until Brad had finished the last notes of the song before rushing Kurt and Blaine, surrounding them with hugs, and a few kisses from the girls (plus a manly peck from Puck for each of them, on the cheek). The boys were now both failing to hide their tears, and Blaine once again was filled with gratitude for the group that had embraced him, and yesterday had quite possibly saved his life. He pushed memories of that away for the moment, happily losing himself in the confusion of a dozen people trying to hug him at one time.

"You guys, that was totally awesome, you have no idea," Blaine finally got out, nearly overcome with emotion now. "That was so perfect. Thank you to all of you."

"We meant every word," Rachel spoke for the group. "What can I say? Brad's a genius." The usually quiet accompanist inclined his head and smiled.

"He is. We've got a performance to do, soon. Blaine, are you sure you're okay with this?" Mr. Schue asked.

"I am, just give me a minute," Blaine answered confidently, accepting a water bottle, and pointing to his matching outfit. "I came to do this, and, well." He looked around at the supportive friends all around him, and his eyes rested on Kurt, shoulders touching his own as they stood close together. "They don't get to win. Because of you. So that means," and he fixed them all with a megawatt smile, "we sing!"

The New Directions broke out into cheers, until Mr. Schue reminded them they needed to get ready to sing soon, which quieted them down, momentarily. Kurt gave Blaine a quick nuzzle and light kiss before they prepared to leave the choir room.

* * *

The Andersons met Burt and Carole, as they prepared to talk with Principal Figgins and Coach Sue Sylvester.

"How is he?" Burt asked.

Michael set his mouth in a line for a moment before answering. "Well, he insisted on coming in today, but I found out later that when we caught up to him at the lockers, which was where that bastard started it all, he fell apart. Thank God Kurt was with him, as well as a couple of other kids. They'd purposefully planned to make sure several of them were with him, and I'm glad they did."

Christine continued for him. "We picked him up then, so forensics could examine him, take pictures, that sort of thing. We took them out for lunch and coffee, and back to the house. Blaine looked exhausted, and I'm glad we took him home. We're so thankful Kurt came with us, I think it really helped Blaine."

Burt and Carole shared a quiet smile. "I'm sure it did. How about now?"

Michael answered. "They seemed all right, and both of them insisted on performing for the festival. You're staying for it too, right?"

"Absolutely." Carole answered with a smile.

"Well, let's see what Figgins has to say."

* * *

Kurt smiled; the decorations were a little loud for his tastes, but he felt they'd captured the colors and feeling of the festival, Dias des los Muertos. There was an abundance of posters, and some more ambitious tri-fold card stock displays, with everything from recipes to customs to fashions and historical links. Santana smiled at him, looking in a much better mood than usual, and he knew she approved (a kind of Dia des los Muertos miracle, he thought wryly, since she was pretty outspoken as a rule about Mr. Schue's skills, or lack thereof, in teaching Spanish language and culture). He'd even gotten the middle school classes involved, and they were here during this after school fair on the first of November, looking at displays, considering what treats to buy, and listening to the band doing its best imitation of mariachi they could manage. This was going well too; the brass instrumentalists seemed particularly happy to have their day in the sun.

The New Directions entered together, surveying the crowd. Turnout was good, partly since the languages teachers (not just Spanish, either) were there, and had offered extra credit for attendance. A few parents were there as well. Kurt pointed to Blaine's father (easy to find, for his height), and his mom was there with her, with Burt and Carole nearby.

"You excited?" Kurt asked, loud enough to be heard over the boisterous band.

"You know, I am. This seems good. I mean, I've got you and all of New Directions with me, my parents are even here, and well, what can happen in front of all these people? So, yeah, I'm good." Blaine smiled, and Kurt believed him. He'd studied those smiles in depth, and could categorize them: performance smile (subdivided into happy and autopilot), polite, dapper smile, and a spectrum of real smiles. Blaine, Kurt decided, looked genuinely excited to perform, and happy, he thought, to have this to concentrate on, in an environment he was sure was safe.

Before they got on, Ms. Alvarez, from the middle school, took the stage to talk to the audience about the meaning of the festival, and formally invite all present to enjoy, try some treats, and try to think of November first and second in a whole new way. She was a good speaker, met with polite applause, but the members of New Directions mostly tuned her out as they readied backstage, attaching mics, checking each other's outfits, straightening a tie here, fixing a ribbon there. She left the stage and flashed them a friendly smile.

Santana strode to center stage. "Hola! I am Santana Lopez, and I'm here with New Directions, the William McKinley High School's show choir, and we're here to sing you a couple of songs in the spirit of the day. I hope you enjoy, and I also welcome you to the festival."

They started in on In My Life, which got the audience's attention, and they quieted, listening to the beautiful performance. Older members of the audience, the parents and teachers, seemed most appreciative, though the students also listened well, and applauded when they finished.

Mr. Schue accepted their applause, and turned to address the gathering. "Thank you, so much! Now, you'll see at the refreshment tables we have some special traditional candies, as well as some cupcakes decorated in the colors of the day. You'll notice, we have skulls in a few sizes, decorated with flowers and shapes, and if you look at some of the lovely displays the Spanish language students have put up, you'll see that they're authentic, as well as the candy bones. So, it looks a little like our own Halloween, but it's really all its own at the same time. I hope you try some! We have a song here to get you into the mood." He smiled, and turned to the glee club.

Puck, Sam, and Blaine took their guitars and started playing, along, with a violinist from the school band, and the three started to sing.

_Candy in my hands could be like brandy on my breath_

_It's clearly handy in my undoing, sure as I'm standing here_

They were joined by the rest of the boys, until they got to the chorus, where the girls joined them.

_Candy, I'm addicted to you, candy_

_Now you've got me once again_

They had fun with the song, that was for sure, with its mildy suggestive lyrics (what! We are singing about sugary treats here!), the girls and boys singing to each other, back and forth with the lyrics, sometimes backing each other with smooth ooohs and aahs.

Blaine looked out the audience, who seemed to be having a good time with the song. He was sure it went over a lot of their heads, but it was a good time. They finished, and the audience clapped politely, pausing in their activities, scattered throughout the gym.

Santana returned to center stage, along with Mr. Schue. "We have one more number for you, and we hope you enjoy it. It's called Raise the Dead." She smiled broadly at the audience.

"And I assure you it has nothing at all to do with zombies," Mr. Schue joked, and she grinned back. "But, although it's certainly not a traditional song, it captures the spirit of the festival."

"That's right," Santana answered. "It's about how our dearly departed are not to be feared, but to be remembered with love. And maybe, to visit and party with, which actually _is_ part of my culture."

The boys picked up their guitars again, and waited for Mr. Schue to finish.

"For this song, we're going to ask you to have fun, and participate. It's easy, we'll guide you, and let's have fun!"

The sweet chords rang out, and the girls sang to the boys to start the song.

_Hey love, you're not still afraid of our dearly departed, right?_

_'Cause Earhart, Mozart, Joan of Arc, and all of their friends are expected tonight!_

The boys joined in, as they sang now in harmony.

_Listen now, we have little time so let's find some festive décor_

_Break out the candles, the cabernet, strike up the band_

Mr. Schue joined the stage to demonstrate the hand clapping and stomping the audience could join in with, and following the New Directions (all who weren't playing instruments) the audience caught on quickly, with lots of smiles scattered all around.

They all sang in unison.

_Let's all raise the dead_

_Ask them to come, to feast_

_A big celebration of past consummations and grand conceits_

_Let's all break some bread_

_And merry down the boulevard_

_Give medals of honor to all of the goners, and deceased._

The guitars kept going, and Santana took a moment to encourage the audience. "That's it, the chorus. When we clap and stomp, especially stomp! Join in with us, and sing what you can. Let's go!"

Blaine sang the next line to Kurt.

_Come on, don't you tell me, that you don't recognize anyone?_

Kurt sang back, as though introducing her.

_This is Miss Dickinson, go ahead and tell her, her poems really lived on._

The girls chimed in, together in harmony.

_Everyone, life is for the living, like you and me_

Joined by all the boys

_But tonight we are sharing, despite the odd pairing you see._

Santana stepped forward with Brittany, to lead the audience in clapping and stomping before the chorus came around, and they all sang it, along with some brave audicence members.

_Let's all raise the dead, ask them to come, to feast..._

The audience went wild, clapping and happy, as Mr. Schue thanked them. "That was Raise The Dead, by a very fun band, Caravan of Thieves. Check 'em out!" The audience didn't seem ready to let go, so New Directions launched into an encore performance of the song on the spot, which the delighted audience greeted with lots of clapping and stomping in the right places, and even more people chimed in on the chorus.

They finished, and Santana stepped forward to thank them. "You've all been such a fun audience. I hope you've enjoyed our take on the spirit of Dias de los Muertos, and I hope you all come again next year!"

The band stepped forward again, playing festival music, and the members of New Directions browsed the festival. The treats were selling really well, Santana noted with pride. "Mr. Schue, I think this stuff is better than taffy for raising money!"

* * *

"He looked really good up there," Michael murmured to Christine. "God, you'd never know..."

"I know," she answered. "It's like he forgets all his troubles when he sings and plays like that."

"I like that Glee club," he said. "They're pretty good for him, I think. It's just, I don't know how I feel about him staying here. How does _he_ feel?"

Christine caught a glimpse of her son, eagerly buying candy bones and little decorated skulls, trying to make Kurt eat a cupcake (he succeeded). "He looks happy, and you notice? At least four of those kids are with him all the time. I think he feels safe."

He frowned. He didn't want to be unhappy, but yesterday's events were too soon. "For now, I grant you."

"Come on, honey, have some fun. Aren't you gonna buy me something sweet?" Christine flirted with him.

He smiled at her. He knew she was distracting him, but he loved it that she knew when to do that. "Anything you want, my love. Anything for you." He meant every word.

**A/N: Songs are Bridge over Troubled Water, Simon and Garfunkel; and Candy and Raise the Dead, both by Caravan of Thieves (for Raise the Dead, I encourage you to check them out on Youtube, these people are so fantastic!).**

**Thank you, dear reviewers, hearing from you makes my day, and I love your observations and questions. This story will continue, by the way (at one time, it ended here), so I hope you continue to enjoy. I hope you agree with me there are lots of loose ends you'd like to see me resolve, and for sure there is more fun to be had as well.**

**You know I love to hear from you, so please drop me a message or review, if there's someone you'd like to see more on, etc.**

**I'm not sure when I can update again – I am working the next four nights in a row (for Christmas I will be a damp noodle, however, it's at my in-laws house, so that does help a lot). I wish you all a merry Christmas season, and of course am praying for the families of those who lost love ones in the senseless tragedy in Connecticut. 12.17.2012**


	63. Chapter 63

**A/N: And now, a word from the Department of Standard Disclaimers: I don't own Glee, or any songs or products you may recognize here, and this fiction is noncommercial in nature. **

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed... Kurt's met Blaine's dad (and Cooper) at a fancy dinner, and learned that Michael (Mr. Anderson) has moved to Lima. Blaine bumped into Rick the Stick and a couple of his henchmen while New Directions was sound-checking for the Dias des los Muertos festival; fortunately his mic was on... Blaine and the rest of New Directions performed for the Dias de los Muertos festival, which was a big hit... so that's what you missed...]_

Kurt and Blaine wandered throughout the festival, enjoying the displays. Michael and Christine noticed that they didn't go anywhere without three or four of their friends from Glee nearby, trailing them as discreetly as they could.

"Blaine? Really?" Kurt frowned as Blaine bought some more of the sugary treats.

"It _is_ for a good cause, Kurt," Blaine shot back, grinning as Kurt groaned. "And, besides, these are delicious!" He managed to pop a miniature cupcake into his boyfriend's mouth, and he loved the surprised then pleased 'oh!' on his face. It was one of Ms. Pillsbury's, a simple vanilla cupcake, but mouth-wateringly perfect in its simplicity.

Kurt couldn't argue, it was. "Fine. But no more! I think we've shown our enthusiasm quite enough." He tried for sternness, but failed; Blaine's happiness at the festival was infectious, and after what they'd been through, he wouldn't want to take away any of that.

"You pretty ponies are all cute and all, but don't forget, we have a date tomorrow."

They turned to her in unison, earning a smirk from Santana, who lifted an eyebrow at their confused expressions. Her expression softened, looking at Blaine. She'd avoid admitting it, but she really did have a soft spot for Blaine, and after what he'd been through, she was still feeling fiercely protective of him. Kurt looked to be holding up well, but she knew that he was a master of cloaking his anxiety. However, her plans from before all that hadn't changed, and maybe he needed it now more than ever.

"A little help here?" Blaine wondered aloud, clearly forgetting whatever she was alluding to.

"Let me break it down for you, Frodo," she teased in her usual tone. "I happens to know for a fact you're acing Spanish, so translate Dias des los Muertos for me."

Blaine furrowed his brows, but did as she asked. "Days of the Dead is how it's usually translated..."

"Exactly," she shot back, as if that explained everything. Which, looking at them, she surmised it didn't. "Tomorrow is the second day, and Kurt, you do remember my gift?"

"Oh my God, Santana, I'm so sorry, with all, with everything..." he stumbled in his speech, mortified that he'd forgotten her uncharacteristic gift, and not wanting to bring back to attention the awful events of the day before, so evident every time he looked at Blaine's bruised face.

Brittany piped up, standing close beside Santana, "we figured you'd need some help. And it's supposed to be a party!"

Blaine looked at Kurt, feeling a little lost now. "Santana gave me some traditional treats, a very pretty candied skull, and some bone candies, even nicer than the ones we're selling here. She wanted me to use them. To, um, go and visit my mother's grave..." his voice trailed off, and they all noticed the sad expression that settled on his face.

"Clearly you need help to do this right, Flouncy Smurf. So, here's how it's gonna go: Britt and I will pick you and the hobbit up at your place. Ten okay? Just nod if it is," she paused while they did, "and I'm gonna show you how it's done." She dropped her bossy facade, and her expression softened as she took Brittany's hand, then looked to the boys. "Learn from this," she gestured, taking in their surroundings. "Learn from what we sang. We'll do my visit first, then we'll go with you for yours." She frowned, taking in Kurt's uncertain expression. "It'll be good, I swear it."

"I'm glad we're going with you," Brittany added.

Kurt collected himself. "Okay, ten tomorrow morning it is. Satan? Thank you." He looked at her fondly, glanced at Blaine, who had barely taken his eyes from his boyfriend throughout this, and smiled at the girls.

"Good. See you at the game. Thank God it's not an away game."

The girls left them, and Joe, Quinn, and Sam quietly stayed near them. Coach Beiste walked towards them, finishing off a bone-shaped cookie as she caught up with them.

"You guys were all kinds of awesome up there," she greeted them.

"Thanks, Coach, glad you liked it," Blaine answered.

"Listen, kid, you've been through a hell of a lot this week. You all right?" Her voice was quiet as she asked him, her eyes searching his face.

"I'm all right. I have the most awesome bodyguards," and Blaine peeked around Kurt, motioning to the New Directions members right behind them.

She gazed closer, taking in the bruises she could see, wondering about the ones that she couldn't. Watching him perform, it had been like they were invisible; his singing and guitar work hadn't suffered at all. She thought he did look tired, though. "Tonight we're up against the Wolves, and we've got this. And John's up to it, he's become a better kicker with you around as competition. How about you guys take it easy tonight?"

Blaine looked to Kurt, who nodded in agreement, and his eyes found his parents, across the gym. His long nap had helped, but now that the high from performing was dissipating, he was feeling the fatigue creep back. Suddenly, watching whatever Kurt chose, cuddled up on the couch, sounded like the best Friday night ever. "If you're sure -"

"Positive." She was glad he'd accepted. The meeting with Figgins earlier, along with Sue and both boys' parents, had been a good one, and all involved seemed agreed that the threat was dealt with. With Rick and his two main wingmen behind bars, and Azimio long since out of the picture, there really weren't any hardcore bullies around to worry about. And the new hate crime statutes, which the students had all been briefed on (and which now included homosexuals as a protected group) were strict, and would be firmly enforced. However, she didn't want any drama at tonight's game, or any more stress for the boys. That, and Blaine's injuries, even though she'd been told they weren't serious, made her unwilling to have him in harm's way at all. "You guys take it easy tonight, have fun. Wish us luck!"

"Thanks, Coach," Kurt smiled at her, and she returned it, and left to go talk to a teacher a few tables away.

Michael had seen the whole conversation. "Tonight?" he pleaded with Christine.

"Let's go talk to the boys," she nodded, and reached for his hand, leading the way. She couldn't see his face behind her, but he thrilled at the casual way she had reached for him, and he happily followed her.

"You all sounded great today," she greeted them. "Blaine, are you doing all right?"

"A little tired, but yeah, I'm okay." He noticed how close his father was standing to her, their hands still intertwined. His father's face looked openly worried. "Um, Coach Beiste just talked to me. She told me it was okay to sit tonight out, and, well, so I'm not playing tonight. I am kind of tired still," he added.

Michael silently thanked the Coach for not making him be the one to force Blaine to sit the game out. He squeezed Christine's hand excitedly. "I have just the thing. We can go out, wherever you want, and head back to my place for some movies or something."

Christine turned around to smile up at him, then faced the boys, looking for their reaction. She knew Blaine hadn't seen the rented house yet, and the last time she'd seen it, it had lacked most furnishings.

Blaine and Kurt exchanged a fast, wordless conversation. "Sure, dad, um, where'd you have in mind?"

He looked momentarily lost; he really didn't know the local scene well enough to answer that. "Kurt, what do you think?"

"Well, the Thai food at Siam Palace is good, and it's really not as fancy a place as the name makes it out to be. They do takeout too." Kurt was pleased; Blaine's parents seemed eager to include him. "Unless you're not in the mood for that..."

The Andersons shared a quick glance, and Christine answered for them. "No, we love Thai food, Kurt."

"Good. Since Finn always wants pizza, I'm glad you don't."

"Then it's settled; how about we do takeout, and we can eat at my place?" Christine was well aware of Michael's eagerness to have them over, and she watched her son's face carefully. Blaine looked pleased, though, if not totally relaxed, and she smiled at the boys reassuringly. She agreed with Michael in this case; eating in would be easier on all of them. She knew he'd wanted them over last night, and was eager to show his house to all of them. She wondered how much this had to do with what Cooper had hinted at to her; how he'd helped his father pick out some things for the new place. Considering their combined design expertise (near none) she could only wonder. Perhaps, she mused, a helpful salesperson had helped guide them? She figured she could hope.

* * *

Sebastian glanced again at his message, before hitting send. **Good luck tonight, Growly. David says ****to say hi to your kicker for him.** Lima was, after all, not around the corner, and he had a morning lacrosse game. But he knew Dave appreciated hearing from him. His phone vibrated with a response soon after. **Blaine's okay, but he's not playing tonight. Thank God he didn't get badly hurt.**

Sebastian's eyes narrowed, and he frowned at his phone, wondering what that was all about. **Fill me in later, bear cub.**

* * *

Kurt followed Michael, as they turned onto a side road, heading towards some of the nicest, oldest houses in the area. He pulled up behind him, plenty of room to spare in the long, wide driveway leading to the house, perched at the top of a small incline.

He appreciated Mr. Anderson's choice: the lovely, deep front porch with its squared, sturdy pillars looked perfect for a lazy summer afternoon, and he knew it would look splendid decked out in garlands and Christmas lights. The Craftsman style house looked solid and comfortable, with so much more character than anything built nowadays. And big. If Michael wanted to telegraph any more clearly that he wanted his family back, Kurt mused, he didn't think it was possible. This large, Norman Rockwell type house was no bachelor pad.

They got out, catching up to Michael, who had just handed the takeout bag to Christine to unlock the front door.

"Nice place, dad," Blaine murmured, following them in. Michael strode ahead of them, snapping on lights, and grinning as he took in their faces. Kurt's gaze was drawn to the beautiful features all around him: simple yet elegant woodwork everywhere, the sweep of the staircase leading to the foyer, and, peeking around Blaine, the solid, massive fireplace in the living room. He quirked an eyebrow at his boyfriend, as if to say, 'understatement, much?'.

"Let's eat, then tour, all right?" Michael felt almost too excited to eat, though the aromas drifting out of the takeout boxes did smell as good as Kurt had promised they would. They followed him to the back of the house.

The kitchen was large, and he led them to the table. "I had some of our furniture from Westerville sent over," he announced. "There are glasses over there, in that cabinet over the microwave." Christine nodded, and went to get them.

She approved of the kitchen, but he already knew that; when he'd taken her to see the house when it was almost empty, she had envisioned it much like this. "The table fits in really well here," she commented.

Dinner was a great success, from Michael's point of view. Good food, the relaxation of taking their time, and he was sure, Kurt had held hands with Blaine under the table. Both boys had eaten heartily, and he knew his wife's favorites, and had made sure he got them all. For his part, he liked Thai food well enough, though it really wasn't his favorite. He'd originally thought of pizza, but was glad he'd asked Kurt's opinion first, especially since it seemed that Kurt would not have chosen that at all.

* * *

**Are you back home yet?** Never the most patient person, Sebastian's restlessness only increased after he talked to David at dinnertime: the Warblers hadn't heard about anything, and were worried about Blaine. The fact that he had practically nothing to tell them hadn't helped any of them. David ended up texting him, but had gotten no response. Nick had reminded them that if there were a serious problem, Kurt probably would have called one of them, and no one had heard from him. In the end, they'd agreed to wait until Sebastian talked to Dave, and had returned to their usual Friday night plans.

Some time later, Sebastian had almost stepped into the shower when his phone chimed, alerting him to Dave's call.

* * *

Kurt laughed out loud, not so much at the delightfully cheesy dialogue, but more at the outrageously over the top fashions and sets for the movie they'd finally settled on, The Adventures of Robin Hood.

"I can't believe you've never seen this, Kurt! This is a classic!" Blaine had bounced enthusiastically, accepting his mom's suggestion on learning Kurt had never seen the 1938 film.

Kurt smiled at the three of them: of course, Blaine's excitement at watching the old movie was the most overt, but his parents seemed pretty enamored of this movie too, and eager to introduce him to it. It had been easy to go along with it: a young Errol Flynn in tights (and lots of other guys too, lots and lots of tights), sweet Olivia de Havilland, and a delightfully evil Basil Rathbone.

"Wow, I haven't seen this many bright jewel tones in one place since we watched some classic 80s stuff on MTV that time," Kurt commented. "I mean, really, did these colors even exist in the medieval world?" He didn't say it out loud, but he was pretty sure those very well fitted tights didn't.

"This was one of the first big color movies, so I think they did go a little crazy," Christine agreed. "But it's all part of the fun, along with the fight scenes and the pageantry. This was one of my favorite movies from when I was a kid."

Michael gazed at her fondly; she didn't see this, her attention focused on the boys. Kurt did, though; when he looked at her that way, he could see a little of Blaine's expressions. He glanced away, feeling a little like he was intruding on a private moment.

"One of mine too," Michael added. "I used to watch it on our old set at the lake house when it came on, for Saturday movie night. I used to think it was black and white – the old set was, and it was an old movie, after all. I was shocked, the first time I saw it in color."

"Coop and I used to play Robin Hood and Sir Guy of Gisbourne, especially the sword fights!"

"I think Blaine hopped on the furniture all the time because Cooper is ten years older, not to mention taller," Christine mused, a soft smile playing on her lips at the memory.

"No, I did that because, look, right there," and Blaine pointed to the screen, where the epic sword fight on the tower stairs was playing out. "There's stairs, and these guys jump all over the place, I mean, you can't just _stand there_!"

Kurt adored Christine more and more. She'd chosen well; knowing how they all loved the old, corny film, and watching them there, for now they looked like the family he knew Michael wanted so badly. Christine was sitting close to Michael on the enormous, comfy modern suede sectional (which totally didn't fit the character of the room it was in, but on learning how pleased Michael had been to show it to them, along with the enormous flat screen setup it faced, Kurt would never have teased him about the décor faux pas), he and Blaine were occupying the other end of the L shape, with the long peninsula perfect for putting feet up, or just sprawling on. He could easily picture a young Blaine trying to hold his own, swashbuckling his way with toy swords drawn.

"Of course not, Blaine." His mom giggled.

"Those colors, you know," Michael said, "aren't as crazy as you think."

Kurt was mildly surprised, and saw the comment was for him. "Really? I mean, magenta? Lime green?"

"Actually, that shade of magenta is historic, though knowing Hollywood and the Technicolor craze, it's probably an accident that they got that right. You'd be amazed how the medievals really were fond of saturated colors..." and he and Kurt had had to be shooed away to the kitchen for drink refills, as Blaine and Christine clearly wanted to focus on the action scene they were talking on top of. No wonder, Kurt thought, Blaine had such an appreciation for a classical education: it was obvious Michael knew a lot more than how to win court cases, and he found himself feeling more at ease with Blaine's father than he had ever expected to, as he listened to him describe medieval art and color sense.

* * *

Sebastian found David, Nick and Jeff in the commons room, watching the latest Transformers movie release. The room was littered with the usual detritus of a Friday movie night at Dalton in the dorm: pizza boxes, sodas, cookies, and coffee mugs scattered around, with the smell of popcorn in the air.

"'Bas? What's up?" David noticed him as he loped towards them. He looks worried, David noted, and he nudged Nick and Jeff to get their attention.

"A hate crime; Blaine was targeted by the fucking local idiots... if they hadn't heard him," Sebastian broke off, and the boys watched as he literally shuddered. "He's basically okay now, and the stupid shits are in jail, but it's all everyone at McKinley talked about today."

"Why didn't we hear about this?" Jeff wondered. "Is Kurt all right?"

"Shook up, yes, but okay." Jeff looked over at Sebastian's face; if the perpetrators weren't already behind bars, he suspected Seb would be tempted to hunt them down. Jeff frowned, gesturing for the boy to sit with them, as he made room for him on the couch between himself and Nick.

Nick looked on, and engulfed the tall Warbler in a sideways hug, worried as well. No one really knew about Sebastian's past, other than the few details he shared with everyone. But what had happened (or almost happened, depending on how you looked at it, Nick supposed) seemed to have shaken him, leaving him stripped of his usual masks, looking thoroughly unsettled.

David narrowed his eyes, wondering again what had gone down, back before Sebastian transferred to Dalton. No one knew; he'd asked around. And Sebastian's usual manner made soliciting details and having heart to hearts seem laughable to even contemplate. "I'm gonna try to call Blaine," he announced. Moments later, he scowled at his phone when it went straight to voicemail.

"He probably just forgot to charge it, he was always doing that, remember?" Jeff said, trying to dispel the tension.

"He was in fact the king of doing just that," Nick agreed. "I'm calling Kurt. He, on the other hand, never lets his phone die."

Nick smiled, as Kurt picked up. "Kurt! Good to hear your voice, man!"

Jeff noticed that Sebastian appeared to relax slightly, watching closely as the conversation with Kurt was evidently reassuring. "Seb, if you ever want to talk about, you know … before," and his voice quietly trailed off. The boy beside him looked for a moment like he was considering it, before he answered.

"Sterling, thanks. I don't. But thanks. I appreciate it."

* * *

"Blaine's friends from Dalton?" Michael asked. He and Kurt had just finished getting drinks in the kitchen when Kurt's phone had chimed. Aside from turning slightly away, Kurt hadn't left the room for the short conversation. Somehow he felt good that the boy hadn't minded his presence when he handled the call.

"Yes. They heard about it, and were worried about him." Kurt smiled fondly before continuing, hearing the enthusiastic cheers coming out of the living room. "Apparently Blaine's phone died and he didn't notice. They tried calling him first, once they knew."

"Forgive my asking," and the senior Anderson paused, "I don't want to overstep here, but I'm curious. Why didn't you just give him the phone?"

Kurt's eyes met his, then shifted to the living room, where they could both hear Blaine and his mother cheering on the brave Robin of Locksley. "He's relaxed in there, and I think talking about it with the Warblers right now would probably end that. He'd just end up kind of reliving it." Michael nodded his agreement. "Also, they want to surprise him tomorrow night."

Michael studied the boy in front of him. He clearly cared about his son, a lot. And he was quietly mature: Kurt had avoided the drama such a conversation would go to, for most teens, hell, for most people in general. He'd heard him reassure Blaine's friends, and plan a surprise with them for his son that showed that his old friends' support was still very present. "Kurt, you continue to surprise me, in the best ways. You really do look out for him, and I'm grateful for that. You've got a cool head on your shoulders." He looked at the teen, who neither shrank from his praise nor basked in it. "I'm glad you're here." He stopped there; he wanted to say more, to tell him that he got it, now; that Kurt was good for his son, and that he saw before him a boy whose appearance belied his strength of character. He knew before that Kurt was smart, and slyly funny, but he thought he could see the man this boy would become, and felt mildly surprised at how much he liked him, for himself. He turned to the filled glasses on the counter, and handed two to Kurt.. "Let's not miss the big finish, eh?"

He accepted the glasses, and allowed himself a smirk. "I'm pretty sure Blaine wouldn't allow that. He's a serial re-winder."

Michael guffawed, the tension all gone, and yes, Kurt totally got his son. "He is _so_ guilty of that! I'm gonna tell him you said that -"

Kurt shot him a smirky version of his bitch glare.

Michael amended, "well, maybe not right now." Who knew he'd grow to like this kid so much?

**A/N: I have missed writing, and missed you, dear readers! I hope you all had wonderful Christmases (or other holiday of your choosing) and a great start to the new year. I've been busy, as I'm sure many of you have been, but feel like I'm getting back to what my church's calendar calls Ordinary Time. Much as the holidays, and the attendant whirlwind they inspire is so fun, getting back to regular life isn't bad either (and for me, I am happy that this finally includes some time to write!).**

**Next chapter is Dias de los Muertos, part two. I'd thought some time ago this story would end there, then I thought okay, the story kind of ends there but I've got an epilogue planned, and then... Well, remember I'd told you how sometimes my characters kind of pull me aside and lobby (usually on their own behalf!)? I'll ask you to weigh in. This isn't really Sebastian's story, not primarily. But he snuck in here, and his issues peeked their way through. Do you want me to continue longer in this 'verse, which would include him getting his way? **

**As you know, I love hearing from you. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope you're still reading. More soon! Ordinary Time is wonderful in its own way.**


	64. Chapter 64

**A/N: And now, a word from the Department of Standard Disclaimers: I don't own Glee, or any songs or products you may recognize here, and this fiction is noncommercial in nature. **

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed... New Directions killed it at the Dias de los Muertos festival (even though Blaine was in serious danger just the day before), and Michael – that's Blaine's dad – finally got Blaine and Kurt over for some takeout and a movie night at his place. Oh, and Santana reminded the boys that the festival is two days, not one, and that Kurt has a promise to keep …cue flashback ..._

"Santana gave me some traditional treats, a very pretty candied skull, and some bone candies, even nicer than the ones we're selling here. She wanted me to use them. To, um, go and visit my mother's grave..." his voice trailed off, and they all noticed the sad expression that settled on his face.

"Clearly you need help to do this right, Flouncy Smurf. So, here's how it's gonna go: Britt and I will pick you and the hobbit up at your place. Ten okay? Just nod if it is," she paused while they did, "and I'm gonna show you how it's done." She dropped her bossy facade, and her expression softened as she took Brittany's hand, then looked to the boys. "Learn from this," she gestured, taking in their surroundings. "Learn from what we sang. We'll do my visit first, then we'll go with you for yours." She frowned, taking in Kurt's uncertain expression. "It'll be good, I swear it."

_So, that's what you missed!"_

"So, tomorrow, 10? Will I need to wake you up?" Kurt teased, planting one more light kiss on his boyfriend's lips, as they stood on the deep front porch of his father's rented house.

"Mmm... no. Much as you waking me up is a truly," here he touched his lips back to Kurt's, "wonderful thought," and he hummed as he reached to embrace him again, "you know I wouldn't miss being there for you." He lifted his eyes, which were wearing the puppy look Kurt could not resist. "You will call me when you get home?"

"Needy much?" Kurt smiled, and kissed his nose.

"For you? Absolutely. Always."

Kurt swallowed. That velvety voice, and the love behind words that would sound cheesy or wrong, coming from anyone else on the planet. He loved it that Blaine wasn't afraid to express his love, and even his vulnerability. How he'd come to have someone who loved him this way, he had no idea. Glancing back to the house, he knew he needed to go, and Blaine had been out here on the porch with him for at least half an hour.

_I really can't stay_ – he sang to him

_But Baby it's cold out there _ – Blaine sang right back

_I've got to go away _and Kurt played at scooting away from him, getting up off the double porch swing.

_But Baby it's cold out there_ Kurt smiled as Blaine pursued him, singing so softly, right into his ear, his warm breath a delicious contrast to the chilly November night air.

Kurt melted as Blaine nuzzled his neck. "You know, you could make me break curfew, but I think that's not a great idea. Not that I wouldn't be tempted."

Blaine immediately straightened up, standing beside Kurt now. "Let me not lead you astray then." He took out his pocket watch, held it up to a sliver of light peeking out from the house, and scowled.

"It's just ten hours, you know," Kurt added helpfully. "And we'll be sleeping for some of them."

"Am I allowed to miss you for such a short time?"

"Yes. Now, good night. I love you." And Kurt gave him one last chaste kiss, with a hug that Blaine returned warmly.

"Love you too. Tomorrow."

* * *

Michael and Christine looked out onto the darkened porch, as they heard Kurt's Navigator pull away.

"It's freezing out there." Christine fretted.

"Probably not at the top of his mind," Michael chuckled. He was getting there, he thought; he accepted it, that Blaine was gay, and that this wasn't going to change. And that his son had a boyfriend – fortunately someone with a lot of qualities he admired, but more importantly, someone who clearly cared about his son, and made him happier. Still, he wasn't quite ready for them to be physical in front of him. He frowned, for a moment, annoyed that his gut feelings and his intellect weren't in synch. Both of them, however, were more sensitive about this than he would have given most teenagers credit for. He, for sure, hadn't been the most discreet about making out with his girlfriends, and Coop? Discretion, for the teenage Cooper hadn't been exactly the first thing you'd think of to describe him. He looked at his son, as he quietly closed the front door, and took in his cheeks and nose, pink from the cold air (and maybe, no, certainly, things having nothing to do with weather) and red lips, but more so saw how his eyes were shining, full of a joy he could not mistake.

"Blaine, come get warmed up," Christine fussed. "Do you want some hot chocolate? Tea?"

Blaine laughed, and hugged his mom. "I'm fine, really. I can't believe you guys are still up!"

Michael stepped forward. "I put the kettle on to boil, so we can have whatever. It _is_ pretty late. How about you all stay here? The place is ready for you. Coop helped!"

Blaine shot a look at his mother, who looked unprepared for Michael's offer.

Michael continued, "Blaine, you have your own room here. And, um," he continued, looking at Christine, feeling a bit uncertain, "there's a guest room that's all ready too."

Christine could feel the uncomfortable silence in the air, knew that it was hers to break. Blaine would not want to make a decision for them here, and she scolded herself for not even thinking through the possibility. She looked at her son; he seemed comfortable enough here, and they'd all had such a good evening together. Finally, she looked at Michael: his face looked so easy to read, pleading with her to stay, eager to show her how he'd tried to prepare for them. "I think that sounds really nice."

"Then, it's settled. The bathroom has extra toothbrushes and everything, so I think you'll be all set. And I've got some pajamas for Blaine that Coop picked out, already in his room," Michael smiled. "I think for you, my dear, we can go with the old T shirt solution."

Christine smiled. His tees were like dresses on her, certainly adequate for makeshift pajamas. "Like old times, huh?"

"Maybe something like that."

Blaine settled into his bed, with its soft featherbed layer over a firmer mattress; it felt perfect. The room was a sedate blue and white palette, with touches of red, in the accent pillows, and the piping on the blue drapes. He smirked, remembering his parents' giggles at his reaction to the pajamas Coop had selected "just for him"; it turns out, he'd bought them for him in California: Harry Potter pajamas that looked like they were meant for a five year old, but that were adult size. He decided to wear them in the end, but plotted revenge, wondering what he could get Coop for Christmas that might be suitable payback. He'd only talked to Kurt briefly, before they both nearly fell asleep mid-conversation. His phone sat on the bedside table, finishing charging now.

The room was bigger than his current one, and he loved the built-in, huge window seat, overlooking the street, with a great view of the night sky. The room had a built in desk and bookshelves too, reminding him for a moment of his old room at Dalton. This house and some of the Dalton buildings were of the same era, and though this house was less fancy, it was every bit as solidly built, and shared architectural idiosyncracies that lent it so much charm. He had to admit, his father had chosen well. Blaine soon drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"You know, since you're not driving, we could have a glass of wine in front of this fire," Michael suggested. "No pressure."

"Tonight, it was so nice. It felt..." she paused, and Michael's attention was riveted. "It felt like a real family night. So, dear, what are you pouring?"

"I've got this nice Pinot Noir over here," and he busied himself with getting it ready. Had she heard herself? She called me dear! More than that, he was so happy things had gone well. He was so excited, having them stay here after this sweet, homey, night, that sleep was out of the question for him, right now. He knew she'd see through his attempted poker face: no one had ever been able to read him as well as she could. He finally turned around to face her, and his heart melted: her shoes were off, and her feet were cutely tucked underneath her, and her body was angled so that once seated, she'd be facing him full on.

"Somone's looking a little tongue tied," she teased, and scooted a little to the side, patting the sectional, and making it clear that she wanted him beside her.

"Chris – I can't even joke about this," and she heard his voice hitch a little. "I've wanted this, and ever since you agreed to stop the divorce proceedings, well, I've hardly been able to think of anything else."

She accepted the glass, and took a sip. "You know I never stopped loving you. Which is probably not so smart." She looked down, all levity gone now.

He reached over, to gently raise her face and look at her directly. "Chris, I do love you. I don't think I ever stopped either; I was just plain stupid." He felt tears threatening to fall, but decided he just didn't care; she needed to know how he felt, and he knew he needed to be open to her. He held both her hands, and went on, pleading with his entire expression. "I can learn, though. I mean, I won't make that mistake ever again. I can't – I know now that it will never be worth it. That you're it. You're the one – you _get_ me, you make me feel like a kid when you smile at me, and making you happy – like tonight – is the best feeling in the world to me. I love you so much, and I'll do anything to prove it, to have you back for good."

"Oh Michael," she put her glass down, and then eased herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest. "I want you, so much. I don't know how not to want you, or how to stop loving you. I love you so much, and it just scares me."

He kissed her hair and forehead, closing his eyes, just breathing in her scent, feeling her body in his arms. "No, I don't want you to be scared of that, not ever again. That's why I'm here, love. I want to be with you, rebuild our life together. I'll do anything." He held her like that, for a few minutes. "There's something I want you to look at, I'll be right back."

He returned with a heavy, cream-colored envelope. "Will you read this?"

* * *

"So, that looks pretty good, guys. I'd say we call it a night," Wes announced.

"Slave driver," David muttered.

"Oh, so you're my slaves now? And here I thought you were just my minions," Wes smirked, as the tired Warblers mumbled good nights and headed to their dorms.

"_So_ not politically correct," David shot back.

"Hey, my people had nothing to do with that shit."

"Point taken." David looked to his friend, much more serious now. "Do you think he's going to be okay?"

For a moment, Wes couldn't decide if he meant Blaine, or their transfer student, Sebastian. The tall Warbler's dance moves and singing had been as polished as ever, but his face hadn't matched his moves, or the upbeat song they had planned. "I hope so," which he meant for both of them. "Let's call it a night, okay?"

* * *

Christine looked at Michael tearily, the folder left open on the coffee table in front of them. "You have a unique style of wooing, Mr. Anderson. First, your folder in the restaurant, and now this."

"You still haven't really answered, though," he reminded her, his eyebrows drawing together with anxiety.

"It's a legal document. One you'd tell any client never to make. You'd tell them to put it in the shredder, go draw up something sensible -"

"Chris, I know exactly what it is." He drew a breath, willing himself to be patient, but found himself becoming unnerved.

She leaned forward, and kissed him. He leaned back in surprise, but she pressed forward more, deepening the kiss, and reaching up to tangle her hands in his hair. He gladly kissed her back, and hummed happily at the brush of her tongue across his lips. Too soon, she was pulling away, to look at him again.

"This basically says, if I come back, that if we ever divorce, you'll be almost stripped of assets, and that starting right away, our homes will be in both our names, as will your personal accounts."

He nodded. "Stripped, yes, interesting choice of words..."

She sighed. "This is you, telling me, in the only way that makes sense for us, that you mean it, and that you plan for this -" and she indicated the negative outcomes the documents spelled out, "to never happen." She smiled a sultry smile that made him feel weak in the knees, suddenly. "Only you could make a sheaf of legalese so damn sexy."

"I'm thinking my negotiating partner is weakening." He smiled, finally relaxing.

"Says the guy who's _not_ in a position of strength." She grinned evilly, grabbing his tie to bring him closer.

"Au contraire, mon petit chou," he murmured, raising his eyebrows, "if I have you, I have everything I want." He felt his heart racing; in the past, grabbing him by the tie and flirting with him, well, that was a predictable, and effective every time, play right out of her usual playbook.

* * *

Blaine was up well before his phone alerted him to Kurt's call, and he picked his phone up right away. "Hey you, good morning."

"Hey yourself," he heard Kurt's voice on the other end. "You sound pretty awake. You get enough sleep?"

Blaine chuckled. "I'm fine. I'm just on my way to go change at home, then I'll be at your place before ten."

"You're not at home now?"

"No, we slept here." Blaine smirked at his pajamas, deciding at that moment not to share his latest fashion faux pas, courtesy of the House of Coop. "Plenty of time, though, so don't worry, Kurt."

"I won't hold you up then. Love you!"

Blaine smiled, a soft smile reserved for Kurt alone. "I love you too."

He threw on his outfit from yesterday, and found his mother's keys on the bookcase by the door, just like they did at home. He knew if he took her car his father would have to drive her later, but his car was at home. He checked his pocketwatch: it was only about nine o'clock. He considered waking her up, to talk to her before snatching her keys, but thought better of it; she really loved sleeping late on Saturdays. He opted instead to write her a short note, leaving it where he'd found her car keys.

* * *

"Did you hear the front door just now?" Christine rolled over, and nudged Michael's arm.

"Yup. And there's your car, off with him in it. I believe you are trapped here in my domain, my lady." He leaned over, and kissed her hair, before leaning back to look at her.

"Says the putz who promised everything he had to get the girl back," she quipped.

"Details," he smiled back, swiping the air dismissively. "'My bounty is as boundless as the sea... the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite."

Looking at her husband in this playful, romantic mood, she could believe it all – that she really was safe, giving her heart to him completely, that _that_ would never happen again. She sighed, but it was a happy sigh; here she was, in his bed, in their old bedroom set they'd chosen when they first got together (which he'd had shipped from Westerville). If they legalized that contract, he really would be as exposed as a person could be: there was no further proof he could give that his intentions were real, since the contract made the consequences of breaking it so unfavorable. It was no accident either that he'd chosen to work almost beside her, in the much smaller Lima office (though that would be expanding). Certainly, he was doing everything he could to be physically present, away from distractions (she didn't want to use the word temptations, not even in her thoughts), and doing all he could to reignite their romance. "Well, Romeo, maybe you can start with taking me out for breakfast."

"Your wish is my command, my lady." She accepted his quick peck.

"Oh, and I like the new linens. Very nice. Did Cooper pick them?"

"No," he answered. "This room was all me. These sheets reminded me of the lacy ones at the bed and breakfast we went to, the first night of our honeymoon."

She looked up in surprise. He was right, of course, but she couldn't believe he'd remembered. "I can't believe you did that."

"You're worth it. I was hoping …" he trailed off, looking away for a moment. "Maybe for a second chance."

* * *

Blaine fixed his hair once more, lightly gelled, and picked up the keys to his own vehicle, leaving his mom's behind. He was glad he was making good time.

Kurt raced to open the door practically before Blaine could even bother knocking.

"And good morning to you," he kissed Kurt back, and offered him his nonfat mocha from the Lima Bean.

Kurt cooed delightedly as he sipped his first sip, "best boyfriend ever."

Blaine laughed out loud, and enjoyed his medium drip, following Kurt out to the kitchen, to wait for Santana and Brittany. "You are so adorable. And susceptible to boyfriends bearing coffee in the morning," he teased.

Kurt shot him a mock serious glare. "This is coffee, Blaine, and this is my perfect coffee order. Not a joking matter." His face softened. "I'm so glad you're coming today. I wish I didn't feel this way, but I kind of feel nervous. And sad."

Blaine reached across the table to hold Kurt's hands in his own. "I think today will be really good, and I'm happy to go with you."

They were quiet then, sitting, enjoying their coffees for a few minutes, until the doorbell rang. Kurt jumped up to get it, yelling upstairs, "it's okay, I got it."

By the time he reached the door, Blaine was quietly by his side.

"Kurt, Blaine, 'morning. You ready?" Santana's greeting startled Kurt a little. Use of their actual names?

"Yes, thank you, both of you. Do you want to come in?" Kurt opened the door wider.

"No, that's all right, just take your gifts – you've got that, right?" Kurt nodded in the affirmative, "and follow me out there; we'll park next to each other."

"Kurt, I'm glad we're doing this with you." Brittany smiled at him encouragingly.

"Okay. I'll just grab my keys and -"

"I've got our coffees," Blaine finished, causing the girls to smile at each other, then back at the boys.

"Strictly out of respect, I'm gonna hold back from telling you all the unicorn/rainbow/puking imagery you just put in my head. C'mon, let's go," Santana ordered.

* * *

"Blaine, will you drive?" Kurt asked nervously.

"Um, sure, Kurt. You feeling okay?" Blaine looked cautiously at Kurt. In the morning light, he looked pale, but then, he usually did. He never asked Blaine to drive his beloved Navigator, but that was clearly what he wanted him to do.

"Yeah. I just … I just don't want to drive right now. Okay?"

"Sure. I got this." Blaine reassured him, and they drove the short distance in silence, following the girls.

Santana waited for them to join her, and looked at Kurt with sympathy. "We're going to my abuelo's first, my grandfather." She looked at Kurt, who looked a little relieved. "This way."

They walked a short distance. The sky was clear, but the gusts of wind were chilly. She looked at the group; everyone was dressed for the weather, and maybe it would even warm up a bit while they were out.

They stopped when she did, at a large headstone emblazoned with the Lopez name. On the left, the name Luis, and dates, showing he had died three years earlier. On the right, the name Maria, with a birthdate only.

"Abuelo, these are my friends, Kurt and Blaine, and this is Brittany, who I've told you about before," Santana started. Kurt was surprised; she seemed at ease, addressing him as if he were still there.

Santana motioned towards the bench adjacent to the stone. "Please, sit down, everyone. You don't know my abuelo, so let me tell you about him. This is a day to celebrate the ones we love who have passed, and he was a wonderful man."

They listened as Santana told them of his immigration to this country, and how he'd ended up in Ohio, and worked hard at his grocery business. "He was so proud, being able to send my father to school to become a dentist, to make a better life for his family." Then she leaned forward, and with a twinkle in her eye, looking towards the marker, and then her friends, she added, "he always told me I was his favorite grandchild... but that I mustn't tell the others that. Don't worry," she looked towards the grave again, including him somehow in her conversation, "I didn't tell the others. Anyway, it's time now for a family tradition. I will share three memories of my dear grandpa, and tell him something of what's going on in my life."

Here she opened her bag, and took out a candied skull and some bone-shaped candies. "This one has your favorite color flowers on it," she said to the headstone, "and we share it." She broke it, and they all nibbled, waiting for her to continue.

"Okay," she smiled brightly, "I think I already told you one memory. About being his favorite granddaughter and all. Still makes me smile."

"I think you really are," Brittany added confidently. "I mean, you're all kinds of awesome."

"I get it from the best," Santana looked fondly at Luis' name, and patted the smooth stone. "Okay: second memory. When I was in second grade, I was upset because I didn't have a sky blue party dress like Susan did, the popular girl with the blond curls and big blue eyes. My abuelo saw through me, though; I just wanted to look pretty, like she did, and I thought that dressing exactly like her would make that happen. So, he asked me, 'why so sad, little one?' I told him, and he shook his head. He said, 'no, my sweetie, she just wears those colors because she can't wear what looks good on _you_.' I told him I didn't understand. He said, 'you are so beautiful, let's get you a party dress that shows that.' And he took me and my auntie, and we picked out a red dress with white ruffles, and a pretty matching headband. Then he got me sparkly ruby slipper to go with it. I loved that outfit, and I told him he was right – I wouldn't trade it for Susan's pale blue dress for anything!" They noticed a tear slip down Santana's face as she finished, but she was also smiling. "He taught me that he thought I was beautiful, just the way I am, and I didn't have to want to look like anyone else."

Kurt looked touched by her story, and Britt rubbed her arm through her jacket. "He sounds like such a great guy, Santana. With great fashion sense, too!" They chuckled a little bit, encouraged by Santana's giggles.

"He'd be so honored to hear you say that, Flouncy Smurf," Santana finally managed to say. "This is what this is about, Kurt. Remembering, visiting, loving." She wiped away a tear, and smiled at Brittany. They snacked on a few more of the treats she'd brought, and Santana cleared her throat.

"Okay, one more story, then one news update. When I was twelve, and he was pretty sick by then, I told him that I still thought boys were gross." She shot a deadpan look at Kurt and Blaine. "Sorry, no offense." She looked back at the headstone. "I used to keep him company almost every day, visiting after school, and usually I'd make him some strong coffee. He told me before he died he was only allowed two per day, and he saved that second cup of the day to have with me, that it was one of his favorite times of the day. But that's not what this story is about."

She straightened up on the edge of the bench. "He told me he wasn't worried about it. He told me he knew I had a fierce heart, like a lion, and that I knew how to love. And that when the time came, he said he knew I'd find the right person. Here's the thing," she she looked at each of their faces, "when I think back, he didn't ever say I'd find the right boy, or boyfriend, or anything. I wonder if he knew, and if it was his way of saying he was all right with it? I mean, of all my family, I'd say he knew me better than any of them." Tears were now steadily trickling down her cheeks. "I miss you abuelo, and love you so much for loving me the way you did."

Now Santana laid some of the Mexican marigolds at the bottom of the headstone. She stood up for a moment, then laid her hand on the stone. "Okay, here's my news update. You, my dear abuelo, are the only one in the family I can tell this. I love Brittany. I mean, like, as in, I want to be with her, and love her, and have a family with her." Brittany stood close to her, and wrapped her arms around her, angling her head down to nestle against Santana's neck. "I love her so much, and I just know you'd love her too. Because that's how awesome you always were, for me."

Santana leaned forward, and kissed the top of the stone, and patted it affectionately. "Some of my happiest memories are because of you, and you will always live on in my heart." They all stood there quietly for a few moments, and Santana squeezed Brittany's hands, and turned to the boys. "I think we're ready to move on, here. I'll visit him again, later, with my whole family, but I wanted to share this with you."

Kurt watched her carefully, as she stood up, clasping her girlfriend's hands, Santana did look peaceful, and happy despite the tears she'd shed. "Thank you so much for sharing with us; it means a lot. It was an honor to be here, to honor him with you."

"I think he'd be glad you remember him like that," Blaine added. "Thank you."

She smiled at them all, a bright, genuine smile. "I'll always remember him with pride, and he will always give me strength. Come on, Kurt, let's go visit."

**A/N: Sorry, Kurt's turn to visit Elizabeth will be in the next chapter (this was was getting long, and my time short). I've been battling the flu for the past few days, and am now starting to feel human again. I'd love hearing from you: I love the insights I get from reading your comments, and I love the encouragement you send me. I always enjoy our visits in the Virtual Lima Bean (cyberspace, where I chat back to those who review or send me a PM). I hope you liked this latest chapter, and I hope to have only a short wait for the next one.**

**Let's see... Michael briefly quotes Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, and Kurt and Blaine sing a snippet of Baby, It's Cold Outside, by Frank Loesser.**


	65. Chapter 65

**A/N: And now, a word from the Department of Standard Disclaimers: I don't own Glee, or any songs or products you may recognize here, and this fiction is noncommercial in nature. **

**Important: do read the A/N at the end … it'll be clear why when you get there. Thank you!**

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed... Blaine and his mom had a sleepover at Michael's house, and it looks like Blaine's parents are getting back together...maybe. Santana decided to have Kurt celebrate Dias des los Muertos with her, and now it's their turn to visit Kurt's mom … so that's what you missed]_

"How is it you still seem to be leading the way, Santana?" Kurt asked, as the four teens walked through the quiet cemetery.

"Because I know where she is. Your mom," Santana clarified. "I know you haven't noticed, but I've seen you here before, Kurt. And I know it's hard for you, probably every time," she added, in a soft voice.

Kurt only nodded, having no choice but to agree there. He clutched Blaine's hand harder, and his boyfriend looked over at him, concern etched on his features.

Santana spoke again. "Kurt, we're not here to remember her death today. Or how sick she was. We're here to honor her life, remember the good times, the things you loved about her that are part of you today. You're _gonna_ cry some. I did, for my abuelo. But that's not all bad. You'll see. And we're here for you."

Blaine leaned over and whispered into Kurt's ear, "I love you."

They stopped when they reached it: the headstone that read Elizabeth Hummel, Beloved Wife and Mother. Kurt's breath drew in, as it always did, on seeing it there so clearly. He looked to Blaine's warm honey eyes for strength, and Blaine's gaze was full of such love and acceptance. He drew in a sharp breath, and squatted beside the headstone, patting the dormant grass, and laying down one of Santana's Mexican marigolds at the base. He did something then that surprised his friends: lowering himself gracefully to the ground, he sat close to the stone in a yoga-like crossed leg position. His usual concern for his clothes put aside, he looked out at the treeline a short distance away.

"Thank you all for coming with me. My mom really was an amazing person." The familiar ache he always felt, always worse here, hit him. "Blaine, I'm not sure I can do this -"

"Kurt." It wasn't his boyfriend's voice, but Santana's that brought him back to the present. "Introduce us. Then her. And a few tears are perfectly fine." She patted his arm. "But don't forget these."

He cleared his throat. "Mom, I have some friends to introduce you to today. This is Blaine, I'll tell you more about him later. And this is Brittany and Santana. They're both Cheerios – that is, they're cheerleaders at McKinley, and all of them are in Glee with me." He looked at all of them in turn, then allowed himself a small smile. "Santana's family has a tradition she shared with me, based on All Saints' Day. With a twist, I guess," he chuckled. "It involves special candies, and flowers – like these I put down here, and, um, kind of partying with the people we love... who have died. Not something I know how to do, but Santana's helping me understand."

Santana gestured towards the bag, holding the treats he'd brought. Kurt smiled at her, and picked it up. Looking inside, he brought out a candied skull, decorated with a rainbow assortment of flowers, bright against the sparkling white sugar underneath. "This is from Santana's family, so we're gonna share it now," and he broke off a piece and passed it around.

He addressed the teens. "My mom died young. You all know that. But I remember lots of little things about her, and some big things too." He closed his eyes, and drew another deep breath. "Okay: here's one of our little traditions that we'd do on Friday nights. My dad always worked so hard, and my mom worked too, until she got sick. But dad would always come home for supper on Friday nights, even if he had to go back to finish up at the shop after. And on Fridays, she'd always get some strawberries, slice them up and add a little sugar, and set that aside while we got the table ready. Then, before we ate the regular dinner, after we'd all washed our hands and sat down to eat, we'd all have a little bowl of strawberries with a little bit of whipped cream on top. I thought that was the coolest thing ever, like our own special cheat we'd do, just on Fridays, dessert first. I remember being surprised that no one else I knew did that – now I know it was my mom's own thing."

"That's so beautiful, Kurt," Blaine said softly.

"I think so too. Well, that's one." Santana nibbled a bit of her portion of the confection.

"Right. Well, she'd always read to me, every night. She'd let me pick the first story, and she'd pick the second. I wonder if that wasn't so she wouldn't have to read One Fish Two Fish every single night or something." Kurt giggled, remembering. "Anyway, that was supposed to be the deal. But then, she'd usually cave, and read me just one more." He looked off into the trees again, and patted the stone, as he'd seen Santana do earlier. "I guess I'll never get over wanting one more story with you, and I never did get over wanting to stay awake for one more chapter, when I'm reading something I love. I miss you, mom," his voice broke here.

Blaine moved forward, to hold Kurt, and rubbed his back, murmured that he loved him. After a minute or two, Kurt gently pushed away, and nodded, as if to say he was all right now. He turned, and faced the girls, to include them, and leaned against Blaine's side.

"This last story, it was the first I thought to tell you, when you gave me my homework assignment," Kurt said in Santana's direction. "All right. When I was in kindergarten, I came home one day all excited, telling my mom I wanted to have our next tea party with real tea! I'd had tons of tea parties, of course, some of them with cookies or treats, but never with real tea. Mom was fine with that, and we used the child sized china set that I loved, that used to be hers when she was little. And then it happened," he looked up and had a faraway grin on his face, remembering, "I tried it, and – I hated it! I didn't like the hot tea, I just thought it tasted awful. I don't know what mom really thought, but she was great. She assured me that there are lots of kinds of tea, and told me that some things are an acquired taste (and then had to explain what that meant). I remember I didn't get over it that day or night – I had been so certain that this would be perfect – why else would tea parties be such a big deal?"

Kurt got up, stretched a bit, and settled back down next to Blaine again. His friends could tell he wasn't done talking. "The next day, after school, when mom met me at the school bus, she told me she had a special treat for today, that she was excited about. There, on the porch, she'd set up on the picnic table lots of tea sets, and sitting there smiling at me was our neighbor, old Mrs. Higgins. Mom said she'd be joining us for tea. I bet mom had a dozen types of tea for me to try, and we had fancy little sandwiches to go with it, and tiny little pastries. Out of all those, she did find two that I liked that day, with very little doctoring: Darjeeling, and Taiwanese Oolong." He smiled fondly. "Mrs. Higgins laughed, and had a wonderful time with that: several of the tea sets were hers, and she really loved tea. My mom told me I had excellent taste in tea – the two I liked were fancy imported teas, and both had been donated from our kind neighbor. I always liked her."

Kurt reached into his bag of treats and shared the pretty bone candies among them all. "I asked mom about the famous tea party, when I was in second grade – so much bigger, by my reckoning at least. By then, I knew she was sick." His voice wavered a bit now. "She told me she'd felt so bad that I was upset that I didn't like tea, and she thought trying to find one I liked was worth it. Our dear old lady neighbor was happy to help her make it happen." He was crying now, slow tears that he didn't bother to try to hide. He addressed her headstone. "Mom, you always loved me, so much, and where some people would have laughed it off or just laughed at the little kid who was disappointed in how tea tasted, that was never you. You took my feelings seriously, and gave me a special experience, a special memory, that will never leave me. It shows just what kind of mom you were, and I want you to know," tears flowed faster down his cheeks now, "I appreciate all of it."

Santana stood, and Brittany stood up beside her. Santana walked in front of Kurt, and crouched in front of him, to take his hands from Blaine for a moment, where she held them firmly, and looked him straight in the eyes. "I am so honored you shared these stories with us. She was a very special lady, and sounds like a wonderful mom. These memories do her proud." And she leaned forward and gave Kurt a warm hug and kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you for telling us about her – you're my special dolphin, and now I see why" Brittany whispered in his ear, when it was her turn to give him a hug too.

Santana smiled, and handed Kurt a tissue to dab at his tears, which had started to subside. "All right, Kurt, the last part? You remember?"

Kurt looked a little lost for a moment, then turned as if to ask Blaine. When he did that, Kurt nodded, as he remembered what she was trying to prompt him for. "I do. To tell her some news of my life. That part's easy," and his smile brightened. "Mom, remember I told you I'd tell you more about Blaine later? Okay," and he kissed Blaine's cheek before going on, "later is right now. Blaine is my boyfriend, and I know you'd love him."

Blaine's gaze was fixed on Kurt, as it had been almost the entire time they'd been there. He grinned at Kurt, and his eyes caught the light, shining bright with unshed tears as he listened to Kurt.

"I felt for a long time that no one would ever love me. Well, you know, besides dad. And then, I thought, well, no one will ever love me as romantically way here, but that when I live in New York, maybe that day would come. I never would have believed that I would find someone who loves me, right now. It feels like the most amazing gift the universe could have found to give me, and I feel like I can barely believe it."

"Oh Kurt," Blaine whispered, and Kurt happily accepted Blaine's embrace. Then Kurt sat back again on the bench, and continued talking.

"I'm glad you taught me how to give love as well as receive it. And I'm glad to have these friends, to share this with too." He dabbed away a stray tear, and patted the stone.

* * *

Christine puttered in her home restlessly. She felt conflicted: on the one hand, a huge part of her just wanted to go be with Michael, let him obliterate all the awful feelings of the past few months, all the sadness, and anger, and loneliness. It would be easy, in a way, to do that. But part of her was still wary: was he really ready to be what she needed, and would things stay good the way she hoped they would? She believed he was sincere, and if she'd doubted, the contract he'd presented should banish that.

She swiped the surfaces of the counters, much more vigorously than they needed. She knew the answer: she hadn't doubted herself or her ability to keep her husband happy before the affair, but that was then. The strong emotions he expressed were no stronger than her own, but she felt unsure if they'd remain that way, if she was really enough. And she hated that she felt this way.

He hadn't pressed her, when she'd requested to go back home (_her_ home) after breakfast. A breakfast that had felt like a lovely date, the devotion of the previous night undimmed. She could tell he'd wished they could spend the whole weekend together, but he'd been the perfect gentleman. If he knew about the doubts tormenting her, he didn't let on. But he had told her he loved her as he walked her to her own front door. For the millionth time, she wondered if she were over-complicating things. For now, she was glad to have her own space to pace in. _To be neurotic in_, she chided herself. _I have got to figure this out._

* * *

**Growly?**

Dave peered at the one-word message. If Sebastian wanted to intrigue him, he'd succeeded. **What's going on?** He pecked back at his phone. It was Saturday afternoon, but he didn't really have a specific plan beyond finishing unloading the shipment of mulch for his dad's business, and that wouldn't take very long.

He didn't have long to wonder; his phone rang out seconds later.

"'Bastian? You okay?"

"Growly. The Warblers are coming down to meet Blaine and Kurt at Breadstix, and we're going to sing for him. Um, can you be there?"

Dave looked at his phone, thoroughly confused. Sebastian sounded uncertain – _so_ not him – and why did he want him to come? Screw it, he thought, if he wants me there, that settles it. But he felt uneasy, hearing his friend sound like this.

"'Bas? You don't sound right. Just tell me what's going on, okay? Same deal for you as you have for me: I promise not to be shocked, and not to judge you. But, hey … we're friends, right? Talk to me."

Dave heard Sebastian's breathing before he heard anything else. His voice was very quiet. "I don't know if I can do it."

"Do what, 'Bas? You're starting to worry me."

"I … don't know if I can sing, and I'm lead on this..." his voice trailed off.

"Look, if you're sick or whatever, I'm sure they can figure something else out." Dave stared at his phone. He couldn't even picture Sebastian with stage fright.

He heard more throat clearing. "No, it's not that. Look, if you can just be there, I think I'll be okay. I can't explain right now. Can you be there?"

His voice sounded so naked. Dave answered quickly. "I'm there, just tell me the time." He paused for a moment. "Look, I'll be there – and you don't have to tell me if you don't want, if you just need me there, well, that's fine."

"Growly, thank you. That is exactly what I need." Sebastian's voice sounded almost normal now. "I'll see you at four, okay?"

"You got it."

Dave wondered what could have gotten to Sebastian. He sounded really shook up, but why? As usual, their meet up was anything but a date, but whatever was going on, it sounded important to him that he be there. For emotional support? He busied himself finishing up unloading, rechecked the invoice against the shipment received, and left after he'd filed it in the appropriate slot at the business desk.

Whatever was going on, it was something new for them, he reflected. Part of him was concerned for 'Bastian, but he was also glad somehow, that he had turned to him when he needed some support. He was a little surprised it would be him, and not one of the Warblers. Pulling into his driveway, he reflected that it didn't matter at all – he'd know what he needed to know, later. Or not. He wanted Sebastian to know that he had the freedom to _not_ tell him, if he so chose.

**A/N: We have a great community of readers and writers here, and you know that I love hearing from you (you make my story better, I swear it). Well, I read plenty of klaine fic as well as write it, and full credit for Kurt's tea party story goes to my dear friend and fellow author, BlurtItAllOut. It is the product of her fertile imagination and storytelling expertise, and she graciously allowed me to use it here, as re-written by me. If you haven't checked out her stories yet, you really should!**

**I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, and you know I love hearing from you. As you see, this story has unfinished business, so I will indeed be continuing it; part of that will have to do with Sebastian's story, as you can see from the end of this chapter.**

**Stay well, dear friends!**


	66. Chapter 66

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here.**

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed... the Warblers are en route to meet up with Blaine to sing to him, but Sebastian seems off his game. Luckily, he's called on Dave, who is happy to be there for him (even if he is a bit confused about it all). Christine is still nervous about accepting Michael back … so that's what you missed]_

This chapter is dedicated to a dear reader and reviewer,

UconnHusky90

Sebastian checked his watch: still a little time to spare, before he'd have to get cleaned up to go to Breadstix. Coming out for a bit of extra lacrosse practice hadn't been a bad idea, once he'd talked to Dave; he felt better, being out in the cold air, running off nervous energy. "I got this!" he yelled, beating Matt in the footrace and catching the ball neatly. Sebastian smirked at his teammate as he lobbed the ball away, readying for the next drill.

A while later, he was under the pounding hot shower, thankful once again that Dalton's dorms didn't have ancient plumbing. It was a good time of day for it, he mused as he took his time washing up; no one else using up the hot water, and well before the date night rush that would come later.

Getting out, he sighed as he prepared to don the blazer. Damn Wes, for wanting them in full Warbler mode, on a Saturday, no less. Though he did rock the blazer look, he admitted to himself. He exhaled noisily as he styled his hair. It was amazing how knowing that Dave would be there for him made such a difference, but it really did.

* * *

"Santana, thank you so much," Kurt hugged the Cheerio, then turned to Brittany. "You too, sweetie."

"No problemo, mi amigo," Santana smiled at him. "Thanks for the coffees and sandwiches. You didn't have to treat, you know."

"My pleasure. I'll never forget this."

She reached over and pecked his cheek. "Good. You're not meant to. All right, I've got a family party to go to, more visiting and candies to eat."

"More?" Blaine sounded confused.

"Yes, more. For the past couple of years, it's been my personal tradition, to go in the morning, just me and abuelo, and starting last year, Britt. I mean, I'll see him again later with the whole gang, but the morning like that, it's my special time."

Kurt admired her so much, considering the side he saw today that few at McKinley ever saw at all. "I … I'm so honored that you included us today."

Shortly after, the girls left the Lima Bean, and Kurt turned to Blaine. "Remember, Breadstix, at four."

"Kuuuurt... you're not gonna tell me?"

Kurt sighed. Puppy eyes or no, he held firm. "Nope. Nada, I mean it!" And he playfully shoved him away. "We're sticking to our plan, mister."

"Okay. Fine. Maybe while I'm home for bit I can try to arrange things with Wes and David – we've got another gig next weekend."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, and tried to reveal nothing, knowing full well he'd see all the Warblers later. Blaine's black eye was fading, but he wondered about the other bruises from the attack earlier this weekend. It was easy to believe, looking at him as they lingered over one more coffee at the Lima Bean, that he was all right, like he said he was. Of course, today was not a school day, they hadn't seen anyone that was any kind of threat, and Blaine looked reasonably well rested. "Blaine?"

He looked up, the tone his boyfriend had used told him volumes. "Kurt? Everything okay?"

Kurt reached over to hold his hand. "Blaine, I worry about you. I mean, yeah, Rick and his two idiot friends are behind bars and all, but are you really okay?"

"Kurt, I love it that you care about me so much, but I hate to see you worry like this. I'm fine. Do you want to just come back with me, instead of meeting at four?" He was hopeful, also curious as to why they'd go to the restaurant at such an unusual time.

"I'd love to, but I really do need some time. Also, I promised I'd help at the shop for a couple of hours, so it's already gonna be a little tight. I'm just doing some inventory stuff on the computer though, so nothing messy this time."

Blaine chuckled; secretly he loved the sight of Kurt in his coveralls, remembering how cute he'd been with the smudge on his nose. "All right, I'd better be off then. You're sure you don't want to tell me?"

"Positive." Kurt squeezed Blaine's hands, wishing to do more. He whispered, "I love you."

Blaine got up, and murmured softly into Kurt's ear, "love you more." Kurt shivered; his breath on his ear, and the low sexy voice got him every time.

"Don't be so sure," he purred back. "We'll have to try to work this out, later."

"I look forward to it." Blaine's eyes locked on Kurt's, as they headed to the door.

* * *

Sebastian arrived first, alone in his red sports car. He'd insisted; Wes had tried to talk him out of going alone, still concerned for him, since he'd been off last rehearsal, but he'd refused to go in one of the bigger vehicles with the others, or have any passengers. And of course, he drove faster than anyone (and seemed to have an uncanny knack for not getting caught). He smiled; he wasn't the only one that was early – there Dave was, sitting in his car, scanning the lot, waiting.

"Growly, you're early." His smile was open, genuine, as Dave rolled the window down.

"A little," Dave admitted, smiling back. Whatever had been troubling his friend, he noted, wasn't showing now, at all. "No other Warblers here yet?"

"None." He smirked. "Some people actually pay attention to the speed limit signs. Weird, right?"

"Bas, you want to get in, maybe talk for a minute?"

Sebastian frowned, seeming to consider it for a moment. He looked at Dave, and knew he'd made the right choice: Dave's face was so easy to read, full of concern for him, and accepting, too. He smiled, knowing he could do it, and do it well now. "Growly, I'd totally prefer to hang out with you here, instead of waiting around in there." He got in and settled into the passenger seat. "Right now, I'm okay to perform. Better than okay," he drawled playfully. "I do want to talk to you after, but believe this."

Dave marveled at just how expressive Sebastian's face was, changing from his usual teasing expression to a serious one. He allowed himself to think it: he was beautiful, especially when he looked like that.

"Growly," Sebastian continued a moment later, "how can I say this? Just having you here, here only because I asked you to do it, without telling you why, and you didn't have to know every little thing, you just knew that I needed you – somehow it makes things so much better."

He still had no idea what this was about, but he decided it didn't matter. "I got your back dude. More than happy to return the favor – I mean, being here for you. You don't have to explain."

"It's going to be awesome," Sebastian leaned over, as if sharing a great confidence.

"Ah, humble as ever," Dave smirked back, and bumped shoulders with him.

Several minutes later, all the Warblers were assembling in the restaurant.

"Warblers, it's almost time, but we're ready. I just got a text from Kurt, they'll be here in about three minutes." Wes looked up from his watch to acknowledge Dave Karofsky. "Dave, it's nice to see you again. By the way, Pat says hi."

Dave nodded; his attention focused on Wes, he missed his friend's brief scowl, that chased across his face like a storm cloud, but was quickly replaced with his customary air of detached amusement.

"Sebastian, you're all set here?" Wes asked him one more time. The Senior Councilor looked at him critically: whatever had been bothering him the day before didn't seem to be a factor now.

"Totally." And he smiled his broadest smile.

Damn! Dave thought; how can anyone look sexy and just like a Cheshire cat at the same time?

* * *

"You're not telling me anything, are you?" Blaine pretended to pout.

Kurt arched a brow at him, and then angled his Navigator perfectly into a prime spot at Breadstix.

"Hmm... well, we're here even before the early dinner rush." Blaine furrowed his brows.

It was obvious once they were inside the nearly empty restaurant: there they were, in their unmistakable blazers, smiling at them.

Dave Karofsky got up to greet them, pleased at having been given a job to do. "Hey, guys. If you would just sit right here," and he guided them over to seats right in front of a small raised stage area, where the Warblers were in formation.

Blaine heard the beat boxer count off softly, and David quietly hummed a chord to orient the group to their notes, and then Sebastian stepped out, and the Warblers' trademark wall of sound hit them, sounding amazing at close range.

Come on stand, up again

Stand, you're gonna run again

Kurt grinned; he knew they'd planned to sing for Blaine but hadn't known the song choice. Blaine was clearly blown away, leaning forward and listening intently as Sebastian took lead while the Warblers danced behind him and sang backup.

Don't give up, you're gonna see tomorrow

That you'll be on your feet again

Sometimes the world's gonna knock you over

But you will see who are your friends

Blaine was clearly enjoying the song, even as he seemed astonished that this was really happening here, for him. Kurt grinned too: they were great, and in the nearly empty room, their vocals were powerful, and they could feel the dance steps.

As the chorus came around, Blaine joined the Warblers, dancing and singing for a few lines, until he begged Kurt with a pleading look to join too, and he did. The Warblers made space in their formation for the two of them as if they'd been dancing with them forever.

Dave watched off to the side a little. He shook his head, amazed at Blaine's resilience. Here this kid was, still bruised from an attack that must have been terrifying, dancing and looking as happy as any one of his former club members. He appreciated that singing this song meant something for Sebastian, who led the group with such confidence (and Dave was sure, he was the best dancer of them all too). He looked electrified with happiness, and he watched as they last chorus got repeated, with a new formation: the Warblers circling Blaine and Kurt, singing right to Blaine, and ending sharply, right on Wes' cue.

Blaine's eyes were shining as he grinned at the boys, who all surrounded him, tackling him with hugs (until Kurt cautioned them not to crush his ribcage, which was still sore).

"Guys … I just don't know what to say. I mean, wow," Blaine shook his head. "That was just awesome."

"Blaine, ever since we heard," Wes closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to relive for a second how upsetting the news had been, "we've just wanted to do this, to let you know we're here for you, for whatever you need."

"And the song selection was Sebastian's. Choreography too," Thad added.

"We want you to know, we're with you. You're special to a lot of people here. I didn't get to be in the Warblers while you were in it, but you, my friend, are a Dalton legend," Sebastian told him. "You're amazing, how you're holding up, and just – fuck them. We stand with you."

* * *

Christine had finally settled down, and sat down to read. The house was totally quiet, and she realized again that she didn't prefer living alone; she missed Michael, who could be the best companion sometimes for a nice quiet read, she missed Blaine, who was always singing, or playing music, or doing something. She'd gotten used to Coop's absence a long time ago, but loved it whenever he was around. She mused that here she was, with the perfect reading opportunity, and just not feeling it.

She heard a knock at the door. "Thank God," she muttered, padding down the hall the open the door.

"Michael?" She smiled at him, happy to see him again.

"Hi Chris, can I come in?" His eyes were full of hope, as he looked at her.

"Yes, come on in … you've only interrupted some perfectly good boredom," and she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

He laughed a bit. "You? Bored?" He was surprised to hear her say that; she was never one for sitting around being bored.

How do I tell him? She wondered. No, not bored, lonely. Don't know what to do with myself. As he followed her into the kitchen, it came to her: after last night, she missed him, wanted him more; but felt inhibited from telling him that. It scared her a little, that so quickly, she needed him again. "Well... maybe not bored exactly," she said. She sang to him, "another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody" and he smiled, before singing back to her, "I got some money 'cuz I just got paid, and how I wish I had someone to talk to," and she giggled, joining him to sing, "I'm in an awful way."

"You cornball," she purred.

"You started it," he countered. "So, did you mean that? It's okay that I'm here without calling? Sorry, I probably should have..."

She tried to frown, but it kind of failed. "You probably should have, yes. But I'm not gonna pretend I'm unhappy that you're here. But why are you here?"

He reached for her hands, as they sat across from each other at the kitchen table. "I missed you. Does that make sense? I mean, it's only been about five hours, but I was there in the house, trying to get through some work, and I could barely concentrate on it."

She smiled, glad that he was being so open. "I believe you. To be honest, I missed you too. So, what did you have in mind?" she said in a teasing tone.

"Well, it _is_ Saturday night. So, tradition would dictate..."

"That you dive into your work after supper, and I read, curled up beside you on the couch." She mock frowned at him. "You complain that I'm crowding you, but you totally whine and complain if I get up to go do something. Did I miss anything?"

"You forgot to say what we were drinking. Or doing after," he waggled his eyebrows.

"Well, first we'd have some tea … getting too close to bedtime for coffee. Then we'd switch to wine later, and then after that ..." her voiced trailed off. She thought, we'd go to bed, and we'd spend time loving each other's bodies, then make love. Then sleep, our best sleep of the entire week.

"I miss those times. Can I stay, if I make dinner? I could scrounge up some work to do, if it helps, although -"

"Yes?"

"The work load here in the Lima office is lighter, for now. And my old cases are about wrapped up. We could do, whatever?"

She giggled. He was so used to working, it seemed like he'd forgotten how not to. "I'll tell you what, honey; I'll totally let you cook for me, and we can have a quiet night, watching something here – I'm choosing though, no sports!"

He chuckled. "Fine. No sports. I cook. You realize the menu's pretty limited."

"I don't care."

"Heart-attack-on-a-plate it is, then," he said, triumphantly.

"You do make a better Fettucini Alfredo than anyone." It was true, she thought, he didn't know how to make many things, but the few things he made, he made to perfection.

"Would it be weird if I told you I already got the ingredients?" His tone was soft, asking permission.

"No. You know how to make me melt. Bad boy, you don't play fair."

"I'll just go get the bags. I don't remember agreeing to playing fair," he teased back.

She watched him. He still looked boyish at times, and clearly he was as happy as she was that they were getting together to eat tonight. There had been little question that she would turn him down. Somehow, right now she just didn't care about that.

* * *

"'Bas, that was really great," Dave said.

"It meant a lot to us, to do that for him. Especially the guys that knew him when he was a new transfer student, but all of us knew he'd had a horrible past. It's a relief to see that he seems to be holding up so well."

"Do you want to talk about it? I mean, whatever was bothering you the other day?" Dave didn't want to make him uncomfortable, but he sensed that Sebastian needed to talk about it, whatever it was. "Only if you want to."

Sebastian studied him for a moment. "Growly, no one in this country knows this story. Really no one over there knows the whole story either. Except for the one guy." He looked outside, and exhaled forcibly. After a moment, he continued. "And even that one guy doesn't know as much as he should. I do want to tell you, but I'll be honest with you, I kind of dread it too."

Dave nodded. "It's all right. I'm here for you, to talk, or not talk."

"That's not what I want, Bear Cub." He smiled his most devastatingly devilish smile. "I want to go dance. Will you go with me?"

"Uh, um, you know I don't really dance too well -"

"Growly, as if I'd forget! Don't worry, you'll catch on. Dance with me?"

Dave smiled. How can I say no to that? He knew he couldn't, not at all. "You're on. But no booze."

Sebastian chuffed. "When I said dance, I really did mean dance. Maybe just one beer a piece, that's it. We're on?"

"I swear to God, you better not make me hate myself in the morning," Dave answered, smiling.

"No regrets, Growly, and no promises. But you won't," he hastily added.

**A/N: Hello, dear readers! Well, it's shaping up to be an interesting Saturday night in Lima, Ohio. I won't spoil it for you, but there's a lot of potential here, and maybe for some of these characters spending time together will help them figure things out. More action – soon!**

**I hope you liked this chapter, and I'd love to hear from you. If you've got questions, it's almost a guarantee I've thought about it and would love to chat with you about it. Thank you so much for your patience; I haven't been able to update as often as I'd like.**

**That being said, I did write a one-shot, which I published today, that jumps off from Season 4, episode 8 (Thanksgiving). I'd love for you to check it out.**

**Songs this chapter: Stand, by Lenny Kravitz, and a passing mention of Another Saturday Night by Sam Cooke.**


	67. Chapter 67

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. Sorry the updates aren't flowing as frequently... glad for those of you still here, and I hope you enjoy.**

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed... Sebastian and the Warblers sang to Blaine, which was really neat, but Sebastian was really kind of freaked about it the night before. Dave showed up to support him, and he performed like nothing had ever bothered him about it, but Dave still kind of wonders what was up. Oh, and Michael is making his unforgettable Fettucini Alfredo for Christine.]_

_From last chapter:_

_Will you go with me?"_

"_Uh, um, you know I don't really dance too well -"_

_"Growly, as if I'd forget! Don't worry, you'll catch on. Dance with me?"_

_Dave smiled. How can I say no to that? He knew he couldn't, not at all. "You're on. But no booze."_

_Sebastian chuffed. "When I said dance, I really did mean dance. Maybe just one beer a piece, that's it. We're on?"_

"_I swear to God, you better not make me hate myself in the morning," Dave answered, smiling._

"_No regrets, Growly, and no promises. But you won't," he hastily added._

They drove for a while, in Sebastian's car, as usual, listening to techno dance music. Dave watched as Sebastian's head bobbed to the beat, his long fingers tapping along as he held the steering wheel. All pretty normal, for him, Dave thought, except for the fact that he wasn't looking at Dave at all, or talking (or singing or humming).

"So, what's your master plan?"

Sebastian snapped his head around, to glance at Dave, suddenly attentive. "For what?"

"World domination." Dave chuffed. "Tonight. You know I suck at dancing." He hoped his friend would talk about what was really bothering him the day before that had necessitated him being included at Breadstix.

"Growly, don't over think this," he said, with his familiar air of superiority. "I'll show you some basics, and if you pay attention, I know you'll get it. Enough to have some fun, which is kind of the point."

"If you say so."

"I do. Keep up, Bear Cub."

Sebastian had been true to his word; one beer each, and a lot of dancing. Dave had to admit, Sebastian was a better than decent teacher (though he felt sure he teased as much as taught him). Now that he kind of had it, he was dancing a little freer, and, just as Seb had said, he really wasn't worse than most of those there tonight. As he got better at it, he noticed that his friend hardly left his side; he occasionally danced a bit, mostly with people he seemed to recognize, but always returned to him, usually with flirty dance moves that were damned hot, with a matching smirky smile. He looked so fine, Dave thought, and like he knew it. And he looked even better in motion.

Sebastian scanned the crowd, and Dave watched as his expression suddenly clouded over. With anger? Fear? Dave wasn't sure, but then he was walking away from him, striding towards one of the bouncers.

"Frank, right?" Sebastian addressed the big guy at the door.

"That's me." He nodded.

"Where's Pete tonight?"

"He had a family thing. Don't worry. Same arrangement," and he touched his pocket, where the tip Sebastian had slipped him earlier resided.

Sebastian frowned. "You're still new. You didn't know about him," and he jerked his head in the direction of a loud, barrel chested man at the bar. "He's not supposed to be allowed here anymore."

"Shit! That's Meyers, right?" He gave the boy in front of him a serious look. "It's not like I had a mug shot of him or anything, sorry. I'll keep an eye on him. One step out of line, and he's out of here."

"Thanks." Sebastian didn't want to get into it; evidently Frank knew the story, but hadn't known enough to keep him out. He walked as casually as he could back to Dave, gladder than ever that he was here with him.

"'Bas? Everything all right?" He noticed he hadn't danced towards him like before, but had instead just crossed the crowded dance floor the way he left it, walking fast until he was back, right in front of him.

"It's fine, Growly." He turned away from the bar, not wanting to look there anymore.

Dave studied the crowd, trying to figure who could have had this effect on Sebastian. He gave up, and concentrated instead on the boy in front of him. He twirled, figuring he could try to make him smile as he clumsily tried to copy one of Sebastian's fancy moves, which did make the taller boy chuckle, then reach for him as nearly lost his balance.

"Whoah, Bear Cub! Maybe you need to try those moves after you get more lessons." He laughed at Dave's expression, flustered and silly, as Dave burst out laughing.

The music stopped, and Sebastian felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Next dance."

Sebastian stopped laughing instantly, and stood up tall. "No thanks," he spat out without turning around.

"Not a question, cutie. My turn. C'mon. Just a dance." Dave was instantly sizing him up, and taking in Sebastian's uneasiness.

Sebastian moved to speak directly into Dave's ear. "Follow my lead. _Please_." He turned next towards the big man, and he stepped backwards, so that his back was flush against Dave's chest now. "I've got a date. Go away."

"Honey, you have lots of dates. And frankly, he's just a kid. Let's go."

Dave was growing more agitated by the second. Sebastian was pressed tight against him now, and his muscles felt tense. Acting on instinct, he wrapped his arms around him, and held him in a possessive embrace, which seemed to calm him a little. "Back off, dick," he growled at the man in front of them.

"A guy's allowed to go to a bar, have a friendly drink, dance a little. I'm doing nothing wrong here," he added loudly. His voice dropped, and he leered at Sebastian, then addressed Dave for the first time. "I don't know who the hell _you_ are, but Sebastian and I've got some history. Step aside, little man. My turn."

Sebastian's eyes darted around the club. Where in fuck was the fucking bouncer? No one seemed to be paying them any attention. "Leave us alone."

"Oh, it's 'us' now?" Meyers stepped in closer.

Dave had had it. He knew exactly what he was seeing. He grabbed Sebastian and spun them so that he was now in front of the obnoxious jerk, and glared at him, feeling his face redden with anger. "You can't hear, _old man_? He said, 'leave us alone'. Move. Now."

Sebastian watched, frozen behind Dave. Then Meyers shoved Dave, hard, but Dave didn't move backwards at all from the force of it.

"That's it," Dave spat, and he shoved back, much harder.

"No, Growly!" Sebastian tried to draw him back, seeing what Dave didn't: that the asshole was trying to get _Dave_ kicked out, not himself. Dave didn't seem to notice the hands on his shoulders from behind, as he plowed forward and pinned the older man to the bar, holding each wrist tight enough to hurt, his legs between Meyers' now, splayed out, unable to gain any traction.

Meyers was shocked by the onslaught; he had to admit the kid was strong, stronger than he was even. And looked mad as hell. _Shit!_

"If you ever go near him again I won't stop at pinning you to the bar, asshole." Dave's voice was low, but cut through the music easily.

Just then a harried-looking Frank showed up shoving his way to the bar. "I just stepped out for a smoke, I swear it. Geez, Meyers."

"What the hell are you talking about? Fucking kid pinned me to the bar. Let go, damn it!" The older man tried to sound wronged, but Frank thought even he didn't look like he believed it.

"Yeah, well it looks like he had his reasons," Pete muttered, looking at the faces around him, especially the white face of the teen with the expensive haircut. He was also sure that the beefy kid pinning Meyers down had only had one drink. "Out. No questions. And no coming back this time, or we call the cops." Frowning, he laid a hand on Dave's shoulder. "Kid, I've got it. Let go so I can get him out of here."

Dave released him, eyeing him with distrust until he was out of the bar. He turned to Sebastian, who still looked white, and hadn't said a word. "Come here," he murmured, then drew him into a firm hug, and felt that Sebastian was trembling slightly. "I'm glad you weren't here alone." He reached a hand up, and stroked the hair at the base of his head, as Sebastian's face was now hidden against his neck. Then he kissed his hair tenderly, and murmured into his ear over the loud music, "do you want to just go?"

Sebastian tensed for a moment, his mind racing through the emotions of the last few minutes: from fear, to anger, then awed and proud at how Dave had handled the dick (until the stupid bouncer finally decided to come back). When Dave had turned to him to hold him, he'd suddenly realized he practically felt woozy, and was glad of the other boy's solid strength, and the fact that it felt like the best hug he'd ever experienced. Allowing himself to melt into it, he felt so much: safe, cared for, and able to feel peace. Then, he'd felt surprised, but it felt so good – Dave's hand, caressing the tension away from his neck, and the brush of his lips as Dave kissed his hair. That, and what Dave had said, grounded him and helped him to avoid the freakout he'd felt threatening to strike when it all started, as the trembling finally dissipated.

* * *

"Guys, thanks so much, this was so fantastic." Blaine was grinning, happy to be surrounded by the Warblers, with Kurt at his side (Kurt had motioned to step aside, but Blaine had grabbed his hand, and drawn him back with a fond smile). "You guys are the best."

Wes nodded, smiling back. They'd had a great time, singing, then hanging out and eventually settling down to dinner. The Breadstix staff had been helpful: since they'd come so early they'd had the place to themselves, and while the food was just so-so (in his opinion, at least) they'd all had a good time. "So, Blainey, next weekend, right?"

Blaine shot back a sour face for a second at the nickname. He decided to ignore it. "Yes, _Wes_, I'll send you and David all the details. I'm so glad it works okay for you. I mean, it was kind of short notice, sorry."

"Hey, no problemo, bro."

"Where's Sebastian?" He looked around, and failed to see him in the clusters of Warblers scattered around the exit.

"He left right after we finished eating. He never carpools, and he's always off somewhere." Wes had a guess at tonight's destination, but kept it to himself.

"Can you tell him again he was really great on the song. And boy, you weren't kidding! It's like you guys are a whole different group with all the new moves," Blaine gushed, clearly admiring them.

Kurt studied him, wondering just how much he was missing Dalton, and the Warblers. He turned to Wes, with a snarky grin."You'll be facing us at Regionals, you know, so of course you had to step up your game."

"Consider it brought," Wes shot back. "You're only seeing a taste here. No spying!"

"Moi? Spy on the Warblers?" Kurt teased. "Like I'd ever do that. I try to leave the inter-show-choir intrigue to Ms. Rachel Berry."

Blaine looked up from his phone; he'd texted his mom, and had just gotten an answer. "Hey, Kurt, we're on!"

David crossed the room to stand at Wes' side. "Blainey, you sure you don't wanna join us for Warblers' movie night?" he whined. David did feel reassured though; Blaine seemed to be his old self despite the bruises. They'd had a relaxing early dinner, and had lingered over coffees and desserts. David thought the bread sticks were kind of bland, but they did have good cheesecake (Kurt's suggestion).

Blaine looked to the Warblers with longing for a moment, but then he smiled at Kurt beside him. "Thanks, guys, but I really do have a lot of work to do, and we're going to work on a project that's due this week. Oh, and Kurt, mom's good with me going to your place to work on projects and hang out -"

"Yeah, I get it, Blainey boy, you've got better things to do tonight." David chuckled as both boys blushed. _God, this is too easy,_ he thought.

"I really do have loads of -"

"Spare us." David laughed, and made eye contact with Wes. "Have fun. Wes, let's assemble the troops before they get hungry again."

* * *

"So, we're all alone for the night?" Michael gave the sauce a stir, dipped a fresh spoon in to taste it, and smiled.

"So we are." Christine tried to get a glimpse of the dishes bubbling on the stove.

He gently pushed her aside. "Nice try. How am I supposed to cultivate an air of mystery for my big surprise dinner if you keep peeking?"

He didn't turn, but loved hearing her laughter as she turned her attention to setting the table, and lighting candles. "I can smell it, you know. And it smells wonderful."

"Good. Because it's ready! Bon appetit!"

**A/N: I do plan on another update this weekend, but decided to post this now. Yes, I do plan on picking up where I left off with Dave and Sebastian, I promise! I'd love to hear your thoughts, as you know (and I answer all reviewers as long as they've enabled that).**

**Blizzard here in New Hampshire (now ended, with snow drifts everywhere, and light fluffy powdery snow blowing around). I'm in front of my wood stove, which has a glass door, so we can see the fire as well as enjoy the warmth. Hope you're all enjoying your weekends!**


	68. Chapter 68 -- note: all new chapter

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. **

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed... Sebastian and the Warblers sang to Blaine, and after that Sebastian wanted to go dancing with Dave at Scandals. But a creepy guy from Sebastian's past showed up … Oh, and that fettucine Michael made for Christine? Bellissimo! So that's what you missed.]_

"Geez, who knew when we said we needed to do a project it'd be so time consuming," Blaine groused, frowning first at the time display on his computer, then at the books and notes for their history project.

Kurt smiled over at his boyfriend. He loved that, that over there, frowning cutely at the mess of schoolwork, was _his boyfriend_ – he'd never really expected to find someone, here in Ohio. And it scared him sometimes, how perfect Blaine was for him. It was something he didn't go around telling people; he had no interest in anyone's nostalgia about _first_ boyfriends (implying impermanence). He looked at Blaine and saw forever. Could he really be that lucky, to find his soulmate so young?

"Kurt?"

Kurt snapped himself out of his reverie, realizing that Blaine had just said something. And that whatever it was, he'd missed it.

Blaine smirked, and crossed the few feet between them, carefully kissing the top of Kurt's hair where he sat, before settling himself right in front of him. "Why do I think homework was the furthest thing from your mind just then?"

Kurt cleared his throat, and leaned forward to kiss Blaine's lips. "You can be quite the distraction, you know. It should be illegal," he growled.

"Really now. Just look at you! It's amazing I can get anything done, alone with you. Our friends would swear all this," and his arms took in the messy pile that was their project, "was just an excuse, never guessing the grim reality. But really, those jeans should be illegal," he cooed, trailing a finger along the side seam as he scooted closer, "on that body," his voice dropped, and he watched as Kurt's eyes widened, then darkened, "and those eyes, just like that... oh God, Kurt, you have no idea just how distracting you can be."

Kurt gulped, momentarily wordless, as he heard Carole's voice calling them from downstairs. "Hey, boys, you want to join us for dessert?"

* * *

"Growly, how about we go for coffee?"

"Sure." Dave studied Sebastian as he sat stiffly in the driver's seat. Scandals was almost a half hour drive away from Lima, and he looked into the dark of the farmlands that flew by. He still didn't look right; for one thing, he thought, Sebastian loved driving, and usually looked relaxed while doing it. His face looked tight, and he just looked happy to escape. They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then he reached his hand over to squeeze the boy's knee, releasing it after a moment.

Sebastian glanced over then, and let out a breath he hadn't remembered holding. He turned on the radio, immediately turning the volume way down; he hadn't wanted music so much as he wanted the tiny bit of illumination so he could see the boy's face. He smiled at Dave, a soft, genuine smile, as his hand returned the knee squeeze. He found on his face what he thought he'd see there: calm, acceptance, concern, but no pressure. He finally spoke. "You, my friend, have an amazing gift," he said softly.

"Really? And what would that be?" Dave had no idea where this was going. Sebastian's face didn't show any of his usual sarcasm. "You must mean my mad dancing skills."

There, he thought, content that he'd made the other boy laugh, and he watched as Seb's whole posture relaxed.

"How could I forget?" He smirked. He drew his eyes away from the road again for a second to look at Dave again. "Actually, I kind of meant how you know when to be quiet, to give me some space." He paused; the atmosphere was more serious now, but he felt like he could continue now. "Growly, I appreciate that. I know you want to know. I guess I'm saying, you can be damned patient when you want to be. Thank you."

"It's all right. If you want to talk now, that's cool. Or not," he added.

"I do. I'm all right now." He paused before going on. "Meyers … he shouldn't have been there at all." He frowned into the night.

"I kind of got that." He waited, not wanting to pump him for details.

The silence got to Sebastian in a minute. "See? That? That's what I'm talking about – you're a great listener, and you don't pressure me. Okay, Meyers stepped over the line, last time I saw him, before tonight. I wasn't with anyone in particular, I was just dancing, looking around," he didn't want to add, _for a hookup_, suddenly self-conscious of that, "and he made it clear he was interested. I mean, you've seen the guy, right?" He snorted; Meyers was at least in his thirties, and looked like the kind of truck driver that didn't bother availing himself of the showers at the truck stops. "I told him no, but he insisted that was okay, that he liked dancing too, and could he buy me a drink."

He looked over; Dave was listening, but his face showed only concern, not judgment. "Why am I thinking this didn't work out?" Dave said.

"Right. Well, I said sure, and he got me one. Here's the thing, Growly, I really am careful. I have to be."

At this Dave looked a little alarmed.

"Well, up till now, I've usually gone alone. And my father's made it clear that if I got into any trouble that could be bad publicity for him, I'd be on my own. That means, nothing that could involve the police, nothing that could lead to a scandal. Don't," he shot a freezing glance at him, "not funny."

Dave huffed. No, it wasn't funny, not to him either. "So, what happened with that idiot?"

"Like I said, I'm careful. I always give a good tip to the bouncer, and it's usually Pete – to look out for me, and do something fast if it looks like I need it. That, and I never take my eyes off my drink, once I get it from the bartender. Well, I had my mojito, and then a guy behind me hit on me. Turns out, one of Meyers' buddies. I told him to fuck off, but it was long enough for Meyers to slip something into my drink while I was distracted. I went to take a sip, and the bartender told Meyers to take a hike, and snatched the drink away from me. He told me what he'd seen Meyers do, and that it was a pretty old trick, getting a guy to look away from a drink so you could slip something in. Steve – the bartender – had Frank throw him out, and told him not to come back."

"Shit!" Dave exclaimed. "Did you report him?"

"No," Sebastian answered, his tone flat. "That's the thing. Me. Underage. In a gay bar. Drinking. About to probably be date raped by a skanky guy. Not allowed to happen, in my father's world."

"Wait, you mean that would be a bigger deal to him than – that – happening to you?"

Sebastian heard the anger and disbelief in Dave's voice. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"You can't be serious," Dave spluttered, and he looked over at Sebastian's closed, bleak expression. "Shit, you _are_ serious. Why the hell would you ever go back there?"

"You really don't know Dalton. Yeah, there are gay guys there, and yes, I've been with some of them. But remember, I don't do boyfriends. No strings. And I do like to dance. In this hellhole of a state my dear parents decided to deposit me in, it's not like there's lots of places I can go. Scandals is off the radar, and it kind of worked for me. I didn't have a relationship with any of the guys I hooked up with there, but I do at least have the bartender and Frank, who kind of look out for me." He looked away from Dave. "Amazing what being an outstanding tipper will do for you."

Dave looked at Sebastian, not knowing where to begin. It saddened him, to think that Sebastian really thought it was true that those guys were only motivated by money. It also meant that when Sebastian went there, he considered himself to be completely alone. "So you asked me to come dance with you."

"You're not exactly Gene Kelly reincarnated, but yes. I can have fun when we dance, and loosen up. Well, until that fucking asshole got himself back in." He glowered, angry again at the memory. "He's not as dumb as he looks, either. I bet he waited until Frank went out to smoke."

Now it was Dave's turn to glare stonily in front of him. "Bastard."

"Exactly. It kind of freaked me out, when he did what he did." He looked directly at Dave now, remembering what he'd pleaded with Dave to do. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Dave honestly didn't know what he meant.

"I asked you to pretend to be my date. I kind of used you -"

"Stop right there." Dave's tone was quiet, firm. "I mean, fine, you make a big deal out of what we are, and what we aren't. I get that," he added. "But did you think for a minute I'd let that guy do anything to you against your will?"

Sebastian choked then, unable to speak. There it was; Dave refused to even be offended. A different guy would have been miffed at being used that way, especially since he'd so firmly friend-zoned him in the past. The memory came back at him full force: how Dave hadn't hesitated to wrap him in a very boyfriendy, possessive embrace, and ordered Meyers to back off. How, when he hadn't, he'd taken the older man's shove like a rock, and then surprised him by pinning him helplessly until he was thrown out of the bar for good. That had all been pretty amazing. But then he thought back to what happened next, when he hadn't even realized he was trembling, how Dave had wrapped him in the most comforting bear hug, blocking out everything, and had just held him and waited there, until he calmed down. And before Dave released him, he'd kissed his head with such gentleness. He saw it, that Dave meant what he said, and he didn't demand anything in return.

Dave frowned, and again reached over to give his leg a reassuring squeeze. "Seb? You sure you're okay?"

He cleared his throat, feeling ridiculous that he was choked up. Over what? He was irritated with how his emotions were all over the place."Yeah, I'm okay." His voice sounded rough, but at least it was working. "Dave, I want to tell you about why I asked you to Breadstix."

* * *

"You want another glass?" Christine set her wine glass down.

"Nah, I'm good," Michael answered. They were curled up together on her couch, watching Flying Down to Rio, one of their favorite Fred and Ginger movies. "I love these movies."

"Me too," she murmured, squeezing next to him tighter. "Know why?"

He smiled at her fondly. "Tell me."

"No matter how confused and misled they are, they always find their way back to each other." She looked at him intently.

"Even in the Barkleys of Broadway," he agreed. "So, Blaine's at Kurt's for the night?"

"Mmm hmm," she hummed. "I talked to Burt, I think it'll be all right."

Michael considered this; he really was happy that Blaine was so happy, and he was getting used to the idea that for him this meant a boy, specifically Kurt. From what Chris had told him, Kurt's dad was a good guy, and very protective of his son, so he guessed a sleepover there wouldn't be anything to worry about. He focused on her again, and cherished the feeling of everything being so right; the dinner, where they'd been free to flirt and tease like old times, her giving in to enjoying his special chocolate lava cake over her initial protests about the calorie overload, and then curling up together, watching the DVD from the set he'd gotten her for her birthday a few years back. Everything about her actions tonight was telling him that she forgave him, wanted him back. Still, he felt the tension of what he'd done weighing on him, and the fact that they had two houses, that he could not assume that they'd spend the night together. "What about us?" he whispered.

**A/N: Sorry, dear readers, that I didn't get an update out this weekend, but that paper I was working on took way more time than I wanted it to. Needless to say, I'd rather have been writing for you than than professor!**

**So, obviously Sebastian and Dave aren't done talking, but they've made a start. And a lot is being set up for future updates, but bear with me.**

**I hope you liked this chapter, and you know I love hearing from you. Reviews make my day, and I love chatting back with you, answering your questions, and talking about our favorite characters. I hope to hear from you, and I plan to update soon (by the weekend, at the latest!)**


	69. Chapter 69 Sebastian's story

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. **

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed... Sebastian told Dave some of his Scandals scandals from before they met, and Dave (who'd prevented another one from happening) was super cool about it, but he wonders if maybe Sebastian isn't done talking. They're not the only ones: Michael wants to seal the deal with Christine, but he doesn't want to upset the sweet vibe of their night so far. Kurt and Blaine? Having a sleepover. To do homework! So that's what you missed...]_

"Thanks, Carole, those brownies were really good." Blaine smiled what Kurt secretly called his 'charming' smile: sincere, polite, but not exactly heartfelt. Kurt smirked, and then realized that he'd feel ridiculous if he ever had to admit to Blaine that he'd become a connoisseur of his expressions, and that his smiles had a category all their own.

Carole beamed back at him. "Any time, honey. Are you boys going to join us to watch a movie?"

Kurt decided to step in, before his polite boyfriend got them roped into anything. "Carole, sorry, but we really do have to get through that project, and we've both got homework to do besides."

Blaine cleared his throat. "We do. But thanks. Maybe next time?"

"Maybe next time what?" Burt had wandered into the kitchen, wondering if it was too soon to make popcorn, and reached for the pitcher of iced tea.

"Dad, I was just saying we're gonna have to pass on movie night – homework, projects, lots to do."

Burt studied his son. Kurt's usual breezy tone was there, but he'd watched them as they had brownies and milk with the rest of the family at the table, and he'd looked eager to finish. Not like Finn, who inhaled all food (but especially dessert), but he hadn't lingered as he usually would, or hung around to suggest maybe having coffee or tea. "What's the big hurry?" He teased his son, guessing that he wanted to be alone with Blaine.

"No hurry, dad; I mean, Blaine's staying the night. Just done dessert is all," Kurt answered, talking quickly.

Finn reappeared in the kitchen. "Dudes – no one wants that last brownie or two, right?"

* * *

Sebastian pulled over. They were in the middle of nowhere, but he wanted to be able to talk without distractions, without other people around. Dave had been awesome at Scandals, and then when he'd told him about his backstory with Meyers, and why he'd kind of freaked, Dave had impressed him even more. He'd told him he would tell him about the events of the day before, when he'd called him up and begged him to be there at Breadstix. Dave had agreed without knowing why, or trying to press him for details. He put the car in park, and cut the engine and the lights.

Sebastian looked outside, to what he thought he remembered was a wheat field. There were no lights around, here in the sticks, but the moon was almost full, and as his eyes adjusted to the dark he noticed that he could see Dave's face fairly well because of it. The night was clear, and on the dark road, with only the occasional farmhouse around, the stars were bright too.

Dave waited, his expression open as he studied Sebastian. He figured he'd pulled over for a reason, and he really was in no hurry. He smiled at Sebastian encouragingly, but kept his peace.

"I said I'd tell you why I called you, night before last, asking you to come to Breadstix." Dave nodded. "Growly, I kind of had a hard time, at Warblers practice. Singing that song for Blaine, it was a great idea. I mean, the guy's been through some nasty shit this week, and we all got upset when we heard about it, and worried about him too. We'd started on that song a while back, and Wes suggested singing it for him, to show our support."

"I think that was really great to do," Dave murmured. "I think it meant a lot to him, knowing that you care for him that much, making the trip down to sing to him and stay to eat and all. It's like you told me before, but now I really believe it: you guys really are a band of brothers."

"Exactly." Sebastian shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "But that doesn't explain why I practically choked in rehearsal. Wes noticed it, you know; he asked me about it. I didn't tell him what was really going on, but I was afraid if maybe when we did it for real, being there for Blaine, I'd lose it."

Dave looked intently at him now. "'Bas, you okay?"

Sebastian wasn't looking at him, but instead was staring straight ahead into the darkness. "Yeah." He paused, taking a deep breath. "Here's the thing, Growly; I had a friend once, who I wish I could have helped better. What we did for Blaine, no one did for him; I wanted to help him, and wasn't allowed to do it, and his life was shit because no one was there for him. I don't think this is making any sense -"

"No, 'Bas, don't say that." Dave looked at him, and laid a gentle hand on his arm. "I think I get it. You wish, in a way, you could have sung this for him."

Sebastian felt tears spring to his eyes, and he tried to blink them away. He lowered his head into his hands, covering his eyes. Dave moved his hand to his back, rubbing between his shoulder blades, and waited until he was ready to speak again. Damn, Sebastian cursed inwardly, as tears fell anyway, despite trying to will or blink them away. "That's exactly right." He pulled his hands away from his face, and turned to Dave. "But having you there made it okay, somehow, and I knew it would when I asked you to come."

"Do you want to talk about him? Only if you want to," Dave added.

"Mmm hmm." Sebastian gulped, and waited for his voice to be steadier. "He was my friend. Henri was a year older than me, and from when I was a little kid, like eight years old, he was always there for me. We'd play video games together, and soccer, and just hang out and let our imaginations run wild, playing with our toys and making the best stories. But it wasn't just that: I could tell him anything, and we always understood each other. When the other kids made fun of me, picking on me for my accent (which I don't have, by the way, my French is perfect), he'd tell me not to let it get me down, and he made them back off. But that wasn't all. I think it was mostly that our parents were so alike: rich, wrapped up in their own lives, and not all that interested in us. By the time we were ten, we were old enough to figure that out. But the time I was twelve, I figured out what Henri already knew about his parents: that they didn't love each other either; they both had people on the side, whenever. The carefully constructed picture of the perfect families they tried to present had a lot of cracks."

"Shit," Dave whispered. Sebastian looked at him; he really did look baffled.

"Around that time, I started to realize I wasn't like the other boys. I was twelve, and not interested in peeking at the girls' dressing room at the parties we went to, or trying to get them to pay attention to me. Or breasts! My God! It's like all the other guys could talk about all of a sudden! And it occurred to me, I just didn't give a damn. I was starting to notice the other boys, and noticed that I was interested in them. A lot. I was expected to dance with girls at social functions, and evidently I was expected to start mooning after them. I went along with the dancing thing, and I could hang out with them. They liked it that I played piano and could sing. They didn't like it when I didn't want to hold their hands or sneak away with them."

He looked at Dave. As usual, Dave was accepting, and didn't interrupt, but had nodded knowingly when he'd talked about the girls, and how he'd been expected to react to them.

"I didn't know what to do. I couldn't talk to my father, who was hardly ever around, and besides had made plenty of comments about what he thought of gays. My mother laughed when I asked her if she knew any gay guys, and told me some of them were good designers or stylists, but that we would not mix with them. I knew what that meant."

"So, you didn't know any gay people, yourself, then?" Dave asked.

"Not a one. No one who admitted it, anyway. My school was a private school, but it was no Dalton. Physical violence was frowned upon, but not absolutely forbidden. So long as the damage was minor, the grownups would look the other way. It was rich kids, conservative backgrounds, and all about appearances, just like my parents. And not gay-friendly." Sebastian's face had a bitter smirk.

"Sounds sucky," Dave agreed. "Who'd have thought Paris could be as bad as Ohio?"

Sebastian frowned. "It's not. Not as a whole. Just that class, apparently. Anyway, I wanted to tell Henri; he was the only friend I really trusted. But what if he agreed with them? Then I'd lose my best friend too. But finally, I worked up the courage to tell him, when I was thirteen."

"That must have been hard."

"Yeah. But I wonder if maybe he'd guessed. He told me, when I told him, that he thought he was maybe bi; he wasn't that into girls, but he knew he liked boys. He hadn't wanted to pressure me, he said. Well, he became my first boyfriend, and I loved him. But he insisted on keeping it secret, and kept on seeing girls. I hung back, and my parents teased me about being shy." He chuckled, hearing a snorted giggle from Dave. "I know. Deep denial!"

Dave watched as Sebastian became distant again, lost in his memory. "When I was fourteen, I'd had enough of my father pushing me about it, and I just told him. Granted, I wasn't diplomatic," he smirked at Dave, and his expression changed to a sad smile, "but it's not like he was either. He yelled at me, and told me to quit kidding around, that it was a phase, and tried to order me to see a girl who was the daughter of an important client. I yelled back, and I cried, and told him I wouldn't do that, that kissing a girl was the last thing I wanted to do. My mother heard all the yelling, and then surprised me by siding with him totally. More threats. I went to Henri's house, to tell him all about it, and get some comfort."

Dave studied him. Sebastian looked fairly composed, but terribly tense. He put his hand back on Sebastian's upper arm, and gave a gentle squeeze.

Sebastian went on. "And by comfort, I mean once he calmed me down and I wasn't crying anymore, we were kissing and cuddling on his bed. His mother walked in on us; she made a noise and left. When she returned, we weren't doing anything, but Henri's father was with her, and he ordered me out of the room 'so he could talk to his son'. I stood there in the hallway, not knowing what to do, as he yelled at his son and called him horrible names. Henri broke down, said he wouldn't do it again, that he was sorry, and begged them to stop yelling. It was so horrible."

"Oh my God. Shit, what a horrible thing to hear."

"They came out and then they yelled at me too, told me to quit messing around like that with their son, if I ever wanted to be allowed in their house again. They didn't wait around for my response; I was too broken up to talk." He drew in a sharp breath. "Things got worse for Henri; he was afraid to be around me much, and then when we were together, he was afraid of getting caught, so after a while he stopped acting like a boyfriend. I was hurt, and I gave him crap about deserting me, but really mostly I was just hurt and lonely. He dated girls."

"Have you ever told anyone else any of this?" Dave asked quietly.

"Not a one." He looked over at Dave. "I'm unloading a lot on you right now."

"Stop. Come here." Dave reached out, and held Sebastian in a tight hug. He rubbed his back, and added, "look, you stood by me with all this Kurt stuff; you've listened to me plenty. Don't you ever apologize for telling me whatever you need to. I mean it." He squeezed one more time, then settled back into his seat.

"Growly, thanks." He held up a hand, "no, look, I'm allowed to thank you. Anyway, after a while, we did do stuff with each other again, secretly. But when we were found out this time, it went much worse. Henri got beat up by his own father – not his face, of course, no, wouldn't want anything public! And next thing I knew, Henri was packed off to a boarding school in Switzerland. And threatened that if he had any contact with me, not only would he be punished, but he'd be disowned. That was the worst day of my life, when I found out." Sebastian didn't try to stop the tears that leaked out with this.

Dave looked at him and waited a minute before asking. "What about you? What happened to you?"

Sebastian surprised him with a laugh that sounded a little like a strangled bark. "My parents? They thought they were very liberal. They were angry when they found out, and told me they agreed with Henri's family, that I would not be allowed to see him or anything. My father told me I could fuck whoever I wanted, if I was discreet about it, but that for form's sake I would have to date girls, do the social scene. I refused, but they thought I would bend. So, I started flirting with guys I found (not in school, though, still couldn't find any there out of the closet) and became more blatant in rejecting the girls. My parents talked to me again, threatening and so forth. I was stubborn."

Dave nodded again, encouraging him to continue.

"So, when it was clear I wouldn't do be their little charming, lying puppet, one day they sat me down. They told me I was going to Dalton (which I'd never heard of); that if I was going to embarrass them and refuse to behave (as they saw it) that they'd put me out of sight. They actually told people that Dalton was near family on my father's side, and lied, telling people that going to an American prep school would be good for getting me into Yale, where my father had gone."

Dave stared at Sebastian. "So, you don't have any family here in Ohio?" He was appalled at this particular lie.

Sebastian coughed. "No. Not at all. Some in New York, some out in Washington state, no one close. I was basically exiled."

"Fuck!" Dave thought that was pretty cold.

"I did better than Henri did, I think." Dave looked at him with a floored expression. "No one here knew my past, and my father didn't research Dalton as well as he thought he did. Dalton's a really tolerant place, and much more progressive politically than he knows. And I will never tell him! I learned pretty quickly that at Dalton it was pretty live and let live, which was a huge difference. Henri, on the other hand... well, I learned from a girl who knew his sister, was watched like a hawk, and started to do drugs and drink too much. One night, he did them both on the same night: the story is he wasn't trying to kill himself." He frowned and studied his feet, and continued in a near whisper. "I'll never really know; I didn't get to talk to him or anything, and it happened after I got here. He recovered, but he's still a mess. Evidently, getting drugs in Zurich isn't that hard."

"Seb, I'm so sorry." Dave's voice was choked. "That is so fucking unfair. All of it."

Sebastian just nodded. "Growly?"

"Yeah, Seb?"

"Thanks for listening."

"I think you needed to tell someone. You can talk to me about anything, you know that."

"I do. I think that's why, with you there, I was able to sing for him," and he teared up again.

Dave rocketed over, holding him again, not knowing what else to do. He understood completely now, and admired Sebastian's strength.

* * *

Kurt closed the door. "Finn got to choose, evidently," he jerked his head in the direction of the noise from the living room, where the latest Transformers movie blared.

Blaine smiled at him, "and of course it's impossible to study with all that racket."

Kurt settled himself on the floor in front of him and leaned over to whisper in his ear, "great minds think alike."

Blaine felt electrified from the sound of Kurt's sultry tone, and the breath ghosting from his ear to his neck. "Study break?" Before the words were out, Kurt's lips were on his neck.

**A/N: I am drained, dear readers.**

**I hope you liked this chapter, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. I've been living in Sebastian's head all week, and now he has gotten to tell his tale, for the first time ever.**

**Thanks to all of you who read this, but especially to those who give me feedback; hearing from you really is special, and motivates me more than you can know!**


	70. Chapter 70

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. **

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed... Sebastian told Dave all about what happened in Paris, and why he came to Dalton... and Blaine's sleeping over at Kurt's because they have loads of homework, ya know? Michael and Christine have the house to themselves … so that's what you missed!]_

Dave settled back in his seat. He hoped Sebastian felt better after telling him all that, but honestly, the guy looked exhausted to him. He glanced at his watch, thankful for the light-up feature on it: only 9:30? He cleared his throat, and tried for a normal tone.

"'Bas?"

"Yeah?"

"How about we go to my house instead? I make a mean hot chocolate, packets with the tiny marshmallows and everything."

"Ooh, I don't know if I should be more excited by the promise of packets of dried hot chocolate mix or the tiny, no doubt dehydrated, marshmallows, or the 'and everything'".

Dave smiled back at him, amazed that Sebastian had recovered his usual tone and smirkiness so quickly. He thought it was unfair that he'd had to be that resilient in his life. "Pressure's on... to be honest, I didn't really prepare for 'and everything'."

Sebastian's eyebrows waggled. "I'm intrigued. How can I pass this up? Besides, hot chocolate does sound kind of nice right now."

* * *

"Maybe we should agree on a dress code for studying," Kurt proposed. He giggled at Blaine's attempt at a crestfallen face when he'd gotten up. Blaine's hair was so undone, halfway between gelled down and free curls, randomly scattered. "I mean, who would believe it if you accused me of being a bad influence, when your grades finally take a hit?"

"They have no idea just how naughty you can be," Blaine growled throatily, reaching for him again.

"Paging Mr. Pot. Who is calling the kettle black," Kurt teased back, slipping away. He walked to the other side of the room, not trusting himself to be that close to Blaine just yet. He furrowed his brows a moment, looking at his cutely disheveled boyfriend. "How are we ever gonna get any of this done?"

Kurt was relieved that he was far away from Blaine (well, as far away as the confines of his room allowed, anyway) when he heard a knock on his door. "Kurt? You got a minute, buddy?"

"C'mon in, dad. Sure." He grinned, as Blaine hastily tried (and kind of failed) to sort out his hair, and threw his bowtie out of sight, giving up on getting it right before Burt could come in.

"Hey, guys. How's the homework coming?" Burt's tone was friendly as he looked around.

"Um, fine, dad. Lots of it, though." Kurt threw in a groan, and Blaine nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

"Good, good. Kurt, why don't you come join me for a minute; we'll make some popcorn."

Kurt stared at his dad, whose tone was still friendly, but he could also hear that this invitation wasn't really up for debate. "Sure, sounds good," and he followed his father down to the kitchen.

Burt closed the door once they were there. "You know this isn't just about popcorn, right?" He waited a moment, noting Kurt's nod. "Look, you know I support you, and you know I like Blaine a lot." Kurt hummed his agreement. "And I know that if you're going to have a date, I have things to worry about with you I don't have to worry about with Finn."

"Dad, we weren't doing -"

"Kurt, let me finish. You're a guy. A teenage guy. You think I don't remember what that means? It's fine, you know that, and you two have always been discreet, which is good." He gazed steadily at Kurt, and reached out to gently squeeze his arm. "Kiddo, it's fine for you guys to be, well, teenagers on a date here. It's safe, and it's not like you can go kissing in a park without it being maybe really dangerous. That sucks, but there's no way I'm going to drive you out of the house for your … time together. Okay. But you need to remember, Kurt, that you're still kids, even if your bodies want to tell you that you're not. And we talked about this before, bud, but you can't throw yourself out there like you're nothing -"

"Dad!" Kurt gasped. He was used to the fact that his father was direct, but he didn't feel comfortable at all talking about just how close they'd gotten to losing control just then. What had seemed natural and completely right when he was alone with Blaine was now something he didn't want to explain, standing here in his kitchen with his dad. "We haven't -"

"Good. So, by the way, Blaine's sleeping in Finn's room -"

"What?"

"Don't interrupt. You heard me." Burt busied himself with getting a glass of water. "Same rules apply to both of you, don't worry. If Finn wanted to have a girlfriend stay over, she wouldn't be staying in his room either. You've got to admit it's fair."

"I guess." Kurt copied his father, getting himself, and after a moment's hesitation, Blaine too, a glass of water.

"C'mere." Burt laid a hand on Kurt's shoulder to turn him towards himself, and gave him a gentle hug, which Kurt almost immediately returned. "I love you, you know. Do you want to talk about this some more?" Burt had to admit he didn't really want to, though.

"No, dad," Kurt murmured, turning the hug into a proper bear hug. "Fair's fair, can't argue with that." Backing up, he continued. "And thanks."

"For what, kiddo?"

"For accepting who I am. For how you are with Blaine. And well, for being really cool with how you set limits." He grinned sheepishly. "I mean, house rules and all, right?"

"No problem. Midnight bedtime, okay?"

"Midnight. Got it." Kurt smiled, images of pumpkins and princes coming to mind. "How much popcorn are you guys gonna need in there?" he asked, as he went to the cupboard.

* * *

Driving towards town, Sebastian heard the chime from Dave's phone, signaling a new text.

Dave read it, and announced, "no problem. You're staying the night."

"Growly, how forward of you. How did hot chocolate progress to staying the night so fast? And people accuse _me_ of -"

"Mind in the gutter much," Dave teased. His tone more serious, he went on. "Look, you're exhausted. I don't want you driving to Westerville like that, and why not? We could watch the game, hang out. C'mon."

Just as Dave had predicted, shortly thereafter, after hot chocolates and snickerdoodles (his little sister had been busy that afternoon baking them), Seb was passed out on the couch, oblivious to the loud noises of the football game Dave was watching with his dad. His sister crept into the room, and Dave chuckled at her attempt at stealth.

"Lizzy, he's sleeping through the noisiest commercials in the world," Dave jerked his head towards the television, "so you think he's really gonna wake up from you walking in the room? What's up, squirt?"

"Do you think I should make more of the cookies up?" she whispered, smiling over at Sebastian's sleeping form. "It looked like he liked them."

"He loved them, honey," Dave reassured her. Sebastian had in fact told her so at least twice. "C'mere, squirt." He made room on the couch, and she nestled in against her brother, as her father looked on fondly at his children. "It's getting kind of late for you. The dough will be fine in the fridge overnight." He smiled as he noted her gigantic yawn.

"That's true, young lady," Paul Karofsky added. "How about you give us a goodnight kiss, and off to bed with you."

"Aw, dad, can't I stay up for a while?" Dave chuckled, not missing the puppy eyes she tried to use.

"Maybe a little bit. But no more baking for now. Go change into your pajamas, and then you can watch the end of the game with us." He smiled as she nodded and disappeared.

"Your friend there looks beat."

Dave had to agree; Sebastian, despite his protests to the contrary, had fallen asleep shortly after they'd settled down to catch the last half of the football game. "Yeah, tough week at school. Thanks for letting him stay over," he added.

"How'd you meet him, exactly?" Paul had noticed the expensive sports car, and wondered what the connection was here.

Dave studied his dad. He sure as hell wasn't going to tell him about the night he'd met the guy who would become his closest friend. "He came down for some football games; he knows some people I know from school. We just got to talking, and became friends. He was down to see some of the guys for dinner; we hung out, and I figured he looked kind of tired for driving back."

"Good thinking, son. You know your friends are always welcome here." Paul turned his attention back to the game. "You got clean sheets and all, right?"

Dave frowned; he really didn't remember if the sheets had been changed since last time his older brother had been home from college for the weekend. "Um, I dunno, dad. I'm on it," and he left to go get some.

* * *

"David, do you think you and your friend would want to join us for church in the morning?"

Dave looked at his mom and tried not to lose his cool. "Thanks. No, mom, I don't think so." He reached for a set of sheets, and grabbed a towel for Sebastian while he was at it.

"Our new youth minister -"

"Mother." Dave paused, and took in a breath. "I haven't changed my mind. Dad said I didn't have to go if I don't want to, and I don't." He didn't add, don't ever want to. He knew she would keep asking, though. He walked towards his room, and put the sheets down on the single bed that matched his own. He noticed that she'd followed him.

"I just worry about you. I know you said -"

"Mom. Stop." He turned around to look at her. "I know you mean well, but I'm not going back there. I don't want to argue with you right now but there's no way -"

"Don't say that, David. Don't close the door on that." She frowned up at her son. "But I don't want to argue either, at this time of night." She leaned over, and he met her halfway as she pecked him on the cheek. "Good night, honey. We can talk more tomorrow."

Dave groaned as he wished his mom good night, and readied the bed. He put away a few things, then headed back to the living room.

About an hour later, they were alone, the game was over, and Sebastian was still dead to the world.

"Seb?" He nudged him on the shoulder. "Hey, c'mon." He was met with a mumble that sounded like something along the lines of 'let me sleep'. He tried again. "'Bas? Bed's more comfortable, let's go."

More grumbling, but that was about it. "You leave me no choice," Dave grinned, and kneeled down to put his arms around him, and lifted Sebastian into his arms. He was surprised when instead of an awake, smirky Seb, he had instead an armload of sleeping, snuggling Seb, who had eased his head under Dave's neck. "You've got to be kidding," Dave muttered, but he really did look fast asleep. He held him there, not finding him all that heavy, despite the dead weight of his sleeping form. He considered his options: dump him on the couch, carry him to his room? His was the only bedroom on the first floor. He jostled Seb experimentally, and found him to be just as steadfastly asleep. "All right then," he murmured. He adjusted the boy's weight in his arms, and walked off towards his room. The house was quiet, everyone else asleep, as far as he could tell. He nudged the door to his room fully open, and made it to his brother's bed. He deposited Sebastian onto it as gently as he could, and it was then that the boy finally woke up.

"Growly? What happened?" He looked around the unfamiliar room, and then up at Dave's amused face.

"I did try to wake you, you know," Dave answered quietly. "It's after midnight. The couch is okay, but not the best place to sleep. Not to mention you'd get no peace there in the morning."

"You, you … _carried_ me here?"

Dave snorted. "Not like it's that hard," he giggled, "but not like you were helping or anything either."

Sebastian peered blearily around him. Too tired to think of anything wittier to say, he settled for politeness. "You win. I'm bushed. I can't wait to get to bed."

Dave smiled, waiting for the double entendre that never came. After a moment, he answered, "you _must_ be tired. Here you are talking about bed and it's totally rated G."

Minutes later, teeth brushed, and wearing one of Dave's tees, he was settling into the bed that was an arm's reach from Dave's.

"Good night, Seb." Dave waited, and heard no answer. He turned on his side to look over, and Sebastian was already asleep. He whispered, "good night, sweet prince," and reached over to pull the covers up for him. Suddenly, sleep was the farthest thing from his mind.

**A/N: Tonight is a work night for me, but I just couldn't leave Sebastian like that. I hope you all forgive me. I know this is a short chapter, but I'd love to hear your thoughts, and wish you all a good week! Oh, and snickerdoodles are a cinnamon and sugar coated butter cookie (a favorite in my household).**


	71. Chapter 71

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. **

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed... Sebastian told Dave all about his past in Paris, and why he's in Ohio at all, and well, ended up having a very platonic sleepover at the Karofsky's... meanwhile, Blaine's staying over at Kurt's house, and they're much less platonic, to say the least (until the midnight curfew, anyway, when Blaine has to sleep in Finn's room – house rules...) and Michael and Christine aren't at all unhappy at having another night together to rekindle their relationship... so that's what you missed!]_

"Mrowww?"

Sebastian's eyes flew open, as he felt the heavy weight suddenly on his chest, followed soon after by the powder puff something that swiped his jawline, and then … the sound of a cat, seeming to ask him a question.

Seeing that the sleeping human was now awake, the cat leaned in closer, until he was practically eye to eye with him. He blinked lazily, then leaned back to his original position, and batted the boy's chin with his paw again. "Mmrow?"

He reached a hand up, and scootchied the cat's ears, then with a single finger, stroked the smooth fur under its chin. The cat responded right away, leaning his head in for more, and batting his chin again with a powder puff paw. "Hey, little fella," Sebastian crooned at the cat, then looked at him closer as he propped himself on his elbow, "well, you're not little at all." He really wasn't. The cat's head was at the level of his collarbones, and his butt went past his navel, with a long bushy tail ending somewhere around his thighs. He laughed softly; this cat also was no lightweight.

Dave stirred, awakened by Sebastian's voice, and rolled onto his side and smiled. "Well, it looks like someone thought you were good enough to come out of the closet for."

Sebastian flashed him an evil smile, as he reached for a pillow to bean him with.

"What? I was being literal! Max usually hides in the closet when there's a new person here, but now he's out, and seems to like you." Dave smirked, picking up Sebastian's pillow and handing it back to him.

"Is this thing even a _cat_? I mean, no cat is that big." Sebastian was busy now, stroking the cat's long back, and they could both hear the loud purring.

Dave chuckled. "He's a Maine coon, the biggest type of domestic cat. We think he is, anyway; he was a rescue. We figure he was some little old lady's cat or something: he was de-clawed and neutered, and when we got him they wanted assurances that he'd get a lot of love. Lizzy's got that covered, most of the time. But Max isn't shy, once you get to know him." Dave frowned a bit. "You're okay with cats, I hope?"

"I never had one, but sure." Sebastian was turning over one of the front paws, and massaged the pink pads as the cat blissfully opened up his toes as far as they could go. He smiled at the pink nose, nestled in among the gray and white fur of the cat's face. "Does this thing have an 'off' switch?"

Dave laughed. "Not exactly. Just push him off when you want to get up. He's used to it."

Shortly after, they were in Dave's kitchen, joined by Paul. "Dad, eggs good for you?"

"Sure son, I'll have whatever." Answering his son's unasked question, "your mother and sister left for church a little while ago, so it's just us guys."

The coffee wasn't bad, Sebastian mused, as he sipped some more of it. Dave was making a simple breakfast, just scrambled eggs and some toast, but he felt at peace.

"So, Sebastian, you don't go to McKinley, I take it?"

"No, sir, I don't." Paul noticed the boy sit up straight. "I go to Dalton, it's up in Westerville."

"Oh, that _is_ a bit of a drive, isn't it. Dave made a good call there, he didn't want you falling asleep at the wheel."

Sebastian smiled at Paul. "Your son knows me well. Thank you for having me over."

"Anytime, son. Dave's friends are always welcome here. How do you know him exactly, if you don't mind my asking?"

Sebastian looked over at Dave, who was finishing up with the eggs and toast, his back to both of them. "Well, it turns out we have mutual friends. A transfer student on your football team came from my old school, and I was here with some of his old friends when I met Dave. Turns out we have stuff in common."

"Breakfast's ready," and Dave turned to them, plates laden. Paul looked at his son, unsure if he was pink from cooking or something else.

* * *

"Brethren and sisters in the Lord, make no mistake, the end times are coming, and fast approaching. And this is one of the signs: like in the days of Sodom and Gomorrah, we have unnatural acts all around us, and these, my friends, are an _abomination_ to God. Recently, one of our own number was arrested and is in jail for rising up against this, at the high school – children, no less!"

The congregation reared back in horror as if on cue, and quiet murmuring rippled throughout the people seated in the wooden pews.

The preacher's voice dropped to a lower, quieter tone as he went on. "Dear people of God, we are living in the end times, and need the Lord's guidance more than ever. We cannot condone violence," he waved his arms as if hushing down their reaction, "but we must lift our brother Rick in prayer. He needs to know that he is not abandoned by this congregation, that we must not fail him in his time of trial. For, dearly beloved, you must know, as Rick knew but forgot, that while we must at all times _hate the sin_, we must love and pray for the sinners. He may have been misled, but his heart is in the right place. Why, just the other day, when I visited him in jail, we were down on our knees together before the Lord Almighty, and he cried out for mercy, a mercy that may not come. Do not mistake -"

Mindy Karofsky saw the beautiful blonde girl a few rows up stand up, push her mother's hands away, and storm out of the church, where the door slammed shut behind her.

* * *

Christine heard the knock at the door, which had followed some insistent ringing of the doorbell, and threw on a robe as she went to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Anderson?" She looked at the pretty blonde, but couldn't place her at all in that moment.

"Yes, that's me. Is everything all right? Is Blaine -"

"I was actually here to talk to him," the girl answered. Christine thought she looked agitated, beneath a mask of outward calm.

"Why don't you come in... I'm sorry, I don't know your name, dear."

"Quinn. Quinn Fabray."

* * *

Seated in the cozy kitchen with Blaine's parents, Quinn had just finished telling what she came to say.

"Quinn, thank you for telling us this," Michael Anderson gazed at her steadily, his voice reassuring. "It may indeed be useful information, but it sounds like your preacher is being very careful."

"What do you mean! He's been on this crazy kick, and no wonder someone hearing his fire-and-brimstone sermons about the dangers of homosexuality and how -"

"Quinn." His tone cut her short, before she could again become really upset. "These guys talk to each other. They know how to toe the line, throw in just enough 'oh, but of course we don't want to encourage violence' statements to avoid prosecution. Don't worry, I'll have them investigated and see if we can make anything stick, but I'm not too optimistic. It doesn't excuse anything, we both know that. Rick won't get off on a technicality like that, his actions were too blatant to deny. Not to mention all the witnesses, thanks to the mic Blaine was wearing at the time."

"But it's not right! This is supposed to be a church, a place that preaches following God, and this, this is horrible!" Christine moved behind the now sobbing girl, and patted her on her shoulders.

"Honey, we appreciate you coming to us. I know you wanted to tell Blaine, but I'm glad you told us. You know that Mr. Anderson is an attorney, right?"

She nodded, and accepted the tissue box he placed in front of her. "I hadn't been in a while, and this new preacher, he's just horrible, you have no idea..." she blew her nose, then dabbed at her eyes with a fresh tissue. "I couldn't believe what I was hearing, as if _Rick_ was the victim here."

Michael cleared his throat. It was hard to keep his professional composure now: this girl clearly cared about his son, and was so upset. He was too: knowing that while he wouldn't have put it in those terms, once he'd been far from accepting, and hearing how this godawful jerk was whipping people up, and enabling violence from the attitudes he fostered made him full of quiet fury. "Don't worry; even if we can't exactly nail him legally, we can scare him. Maybe enough to shut some of this down. I promise you that we'll try."

* * *

Blaine had just left Kurt at his classroom, and walked down the hall to his first class, Mike Chang by his side. Sue Sylvester rounded the corner, and accosted him. "Blaine, come to my office during homeroom. Here's a pass."

"Um, Coach Sylvester?" Blaine looked to Mike, who shrugged as if to say he didn't have any idea either.

"We'll need a few minutes. We have a routine to plan." Her clipped tone seemed to brook no opposition.

"Ah, Coach, you do remember he's on the football team?" Mike asked, looking then to Blaine, who looked like he wanted to escape more than anything.

"Of course. So," she directed her comment back to Blaine, "my office. Don't be late."

Blaine fidgeted a little in his Calculus class. Kurt had texted him back, and evidently he didn't know what Coach Sue was planning either. He sighed. Kurt had worked it out that he didn't have to wear the Cheerios uniform all the time; maybe he could do the same. He had to admit, Kurt's last performance had been amazing, and not really so different than what they did in show choir. Still, he felt uncomfortable, and wondered what she had up her sleeve.

* * *

Friday night wasn't cool, it was frigid. Blaine was glad he and Kurt wouldn't be performing yet; he felt like the number wasn't ready, and hadn't objected when Sue informed him he wouldn't be performing until the homecoming game. He rose to his feet, cheering on the team, as they rushed, and made first down. This was going well. He stamped his feet, got up and starting warming up: it looked like they'd be in field goal range very soon.

Michael smiled as Christine snuggled against him, and he wrapped his arm around her tighter. "Cold, love?"

"Freezing." They watched as Blaine got ready to kick.

"Do you need to go inside?" He frowned a little; she never had liked the cold very much.

"And miss this?" She laughed. "No, I'll survive."

"My place, after?" He squeezed her hands with his free arm. "Fireplace? Tempted?" He smiled at her, then looked up as Blaine kicked, and they joined the crowd in cheering as he easily made the field goal.

"You do know how to play dirty," she cooed.

"Guilty. So, that's a yes?"

She smiled at the hope on his face, and settled deeper into his side. "That's a yes. Happy?"

"You have no idea," he tickled her ear as he answered. "I arranged the cold weather, just to convince you."

"Nothing if not thorough," she murmured back. "It's been a long week."

During the work week, they'd reverted to each sleeping at their own houses. It hardly felt like they were living apart most of the time, as it had been a busy week at work, with long hours, and sometimes dinners shared in his office. But they both missed the closeness they'd had over the weekend, and how they'd started sleeping together, starting with that first night, over a week ago, when Christine and Blaine had both slept at his house.

They had stayed away from talking about the divorce-that-wasn't, but things weren't all the way fixed either, despite the fact that they'd returned to a level of physical closeness they hadn't had in years. He accepted it, that she still felt the need of a place of her own, that she was still unsure, and concluded that they needed to have the talk she'd avoided recently. They'd talked about so many things, but she'd been skittish about hearing about the affair, and he knew he needed to tell her more. Why it wouldn't ever happen again (he was sure of that), and he wanted her to hear his full apology. He was willing to be patient, like he'd promised her, but he really wanted this done with: he wanted her to forgive him, but even more, to trust him again.

She leaned down to open the pack with the hot chocolate in it, and automatically made two cups up. She saw Kurt's dad and Carole a few rows closer to the field. Carole had understood completely when she'd declined to sit with them. It did feel like a date, after their long work week. She straightened up to hand him his cup, and looked into his eyes: he hadn't been watching the action on the field, but instead had been watching her. She smiled at him, and was met with a dazzling smile right back. I have the cutest date here, she thought to herself.

"I talked to Burt, before the game," he said. "Chris?"

"Hmm?" She blew on the hot chocolate, and her eyes met his.

"Honey, we need to talk things out. Please? Burt said Blaine can stay with them."

"It's not -"

"No, sweetie, it _is_ necessary." His eyes were full of concern, but also pleading. "I know it's not going to be easy to hear, but I need to tell you everything." He looked around; in the middle of the noise all around them, no one was paying them any attention. "I want us. I want us, back together, and I want you to know you can trust me. We've got to do this."

He held back a groan as her eyes suddenly started to look teary. "I'm not sure -"

"I know. Shhh. Trust me?"

She looked up at him, and knew that she did already. She shook her head; Mimi would tell her she was a fool for that, but she knew he wouldn't believe her if she told him again she didn't need to know all that. But then she was reminded again of her sister's uncharacteristically biting comment, that clearly she didn't trust him as much as she said she did, since they still had separate houses. She'd avoided this talk before, but knew he wouldn't be so easily distracted this time. "All right. So, Blaine's staying with Kurt's family?" He nodded. "Fireplace?" He nodded, and smiled back at the ghost of a smile that had returned to her face. "There better be chocolate."

"The best. Got that covered. And Corsentino's cookies." He grinned, happy she accepted his plan. "I even got a box for Kurt. For his family, of course." He bent down to kiss her hair, and sipped some of the scalding hot chocolate.

* * *

Sebastian sat in the visitor section, and wondered if maybe he'd change seats. He certainly wasn't going to cheer for the Titans' opponents, but he hadn't thought to sit with the home team's fans, who seemed to mostly know each other. He smiled, watching as Dave brought down the running back, no yards gained. He wasn't the fastest, but he played smart, and seemed to know by instinct where the running back had wanted to go. He cheered along with the home team fans, not caring about the looks thrown his way by the Bengals' fans. The Titans were playing better than ever, and he knew Dave would be happy and excited after the game. Dave didn't know he was here yet, and he looked forward to surprising him.

**A/N: Lots going on, here in Lima. Forgive me for a chapter that's mostly setting things up, but I did try to make it fun for you. Dave's kitty, by the way, is a guest from my past: my cat when I was a child, who came from the pound, and was full grown when we got him. Kitty (as we named him, I kid you not) was enormous and sweet, a huge cat with a tiny meow. Having Max the cat wake Sebastian up just kind of came to me.**

**Anyway, I'd love to hear your thoughts; some of this was on the heavy side, but there's fun to come too (remember that Sue figures Blaine owes her, since her Lavallier mic was destroyed when he was attacked... or is there something else going on in her mind?).**

**Also, some of you expressed interest in the recipe for Lizzy's snickerdoodles. This is from a cookbook I've had since when I first got married (we'll be at 29 years in June!): Cookies by Natalie Hartanov Haughton, which is out of print, I think. This recipe is easy to follow, and makes very yummy cookies:**

**1 cup butter, room temperature; 1 and 1/3 cups sugar, 2 eggs (large), 3 cups all-purpose flour, 1 and 1/2 teaspoons cream of tartar, 1 teaspoon baking soda, and a pinch of salt. You'll also need (put aside separately) 2 tablespoons of sugar, and 1 and 1/2 teaspoons of ground cinnamon to roll the cookies in.**

**Directions: Prepare cinnamon-sugar coating, set aside. Preheat oven to 375 F. (190c). In a large bowl, beat together butter, sugar, and eggs until fluffy (use an electric mixer if you have one). In another bowl, combine flour, cream of tartar, baking soda and salt, mix well. Add dry mixture to wet mixture a little at a time until all is combined.**

**Take about a walnut sized pinch of cookie mixture, roll by hand into a ball, dip into cinnamon-sugar mixture, and place on an ungreased cookie sheet, about 2 inches apart. I then flatten them somewhat, using my hand (or you can use the bottom of a glass). Bake 10 minutes or until golden; remove cookies from baking sheets and cool on racks. Makes about 80 cookies (variable!).**


	72. Chapter 72

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. **

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … it's a cold Friday night in Lima, but a warm front is moving in as the night gets colder...]_

Dave saw a tall figure moving in the stands, looking for a seat, who stopped when he came to his dad. Sebastian? He smiled, and just then the boy himself turned around and smiled at him, where he was sitting on the sidelines. His father made room for him, and 'Bastian settled in, accepting a drink from his little sister, who looked like an Eskimo, clad in her big poufy hat trimmed with white faux fur and her pink parka. This was the first time he'd shown up unannounced like this, and he felt so happy and surprised at the gesture. Then he remembered where he was, and looked away, trying to not be so obvious.

"Game's going our way finally!" He smiled back as his teammate Bob bumped shoulders with him. "I think we got this!"

"Yeah, I think so," he answered. "Who'da thought we'd be positioned to go to the semi-finals?"

"I know, right? Hell, this keeps up, we'll all have goofy grins," Bob teased back. "You got a date after the game?"

"Nope. Nothing." He looked away, not wanting to have this conversation.

"Man, I gotta help you out! Bros helping bros, you know? I mean, you were on fire out there. You just gotta stop being so shy – girls are into this!" Bob frowned at him appraisingly. "I mean, like Quinn Fabray is spoken for, but there's lots of other Cheerios -"

"Bob, it's all right. I can handle it, I swear. Don't worry about me. Hey, looks like they're not gonna make fourth down; we gotta get ready to get back out there." Dave was grateful for the action on the field.

"Cool. I'll keep my eyes open, bro."

* * *

Blaine was swamped by a happy Kurt, along with his parents, Burt and Carole. "You did it – you guys are gonna make it this year!" Burt yelled happily.

"Great work, son," and Michael came closer, and gave him a squeeze across both shoulders. Finn waved from down the field a bit, but he was swamped with teammates and Cheerios. Michael bent down a bit to speak directly into Blaine's ear amid all the noise. "I want some time to talk things out with your mother. Burt said it's okay for you to sleep over; sound okay?"

Blaine's eyebrows shot up, and he managed to blurt out, "sure, dad!" before turning to Kurt, who'd just heard the same thing from Carole, and was wearing a goofy grin. "I'm glad you guys came to the game, though. I wasn't sure you'd make it – you've both been working late a lot."

"Sweetie, I'm glad too. Frozen, but glad," his mother smiled playfully. "Let me kiss you good night, honey, I really do need to go warm up."

Burt chimed in, "we've got everything all set. No problem."

Michael reached out and tapped Kurt on the shoulder. Kurt's eyes widened, seeing what he was holding, and he chuckled, waiting for the older man to speak.

"For you, and your family, of course," Michael said, presenting the white box tied up with red and white bakery string to Kurt.

"From Corsentino's?" Kurt's voice sounded excited.

"From Corsentino's," Michael smiled back at him. Kurt looked like he was debating whether to have one right then and there. "Extras on the chocolate-dipped Italian butter cookies."

Kurt stepped closer and said for him alone, "You do know you don't exactly have to bribe me to have Blaine over."

Christine giggled, and Blaine watched amazed; Kurt had his eyebrow cocked and wore a smug smile, and Michael burst out laughing. He recovered and shot back, "oh? If you don't want the cookies then..."

Kurt deftly stepped away and held the cookies far from Michael. "I definitely want the cookies. You didn't have to, but thanks," he added sincerely.

"My associate had to go to Columbus for a case. He's getting so he doesn't even have to ask."

* * *

Sebastian saw Kurt and Blaine and their families from a few yards down. He smiled at the happy group, but decided to wait along with Paul and Lizzy for Dave to come to them.

"You came! That was a surprise!" Dave greeted him, after accepting his family's congratulations for his part in the win.

"Yeah, well, not much going on in Westerville tonight, and I thought it'd be fun. I was right," he smiled, "and you did great out there."

"Well, I gotta hit the showers, but did you have any plans for tonight?" he wondered. He really wasn't willing to face Scandals this soon, and after the game wasn't feeling much like dancing.

"I checked the local listings, and there's a late showing of the new James Bond movie we could probably catch."

Dave had to admit, Sebastian could fool anyone he chose to; his father certainly didn't seem to have any clue that this wasn't the most predictable thing in the world for Seb to do. "Sounds great. Dad, I can get a ride home."

Paul smiled at the boys. "All right, see you later, son. C'mon, Lizzie."

After Dave had said his good nights to his father and little sister, he turned to Sebastian before heading off to the showers. "James Bond movie?"

"What? I meant it. Unless you'd rather -"

"No, no, sounds good," Dave reassured him. "I was wanting to see it."

"Then hurry up, Growly, so we can grab a bite beforehand," and he shoved him towards where the rest of the team was going. "I'll be out at my car." _Not freezing my 'nads off out here_, he thought. Geez! It was cold.

* * *

Michael was glad the fireplace had been fitted with a modern gas system, and in no time he had a comforting blaze going. He smiled over at Christine, who was right beside him, as close to the fire as she could get.

"You really did get chilled out there," he murmured. "We're going to have to get you a serious parka if we're going to go to sports events."

"Since when did you ever think of fashion," she smiled back up at him.

"Since I saw my wife transformed into an icicle." He reached for her hands and folded them easily into his own, trying to warm them faster. He noticed she looked a little pale, which was unlike her. Guiding her over to the sectional, his eyes searched her face, questioning. "Are you all right, Chris?"

"I'm fine. Just cold. And maybe a little tired, that's all." She tried to laugh it off. "All that cold, fresh air! Maybe I just need something to eat."

"Well, I've got that covered. You wait here and warm up." He smiled as she nodded her acceptance, and went to busy himself making a tray of snacks in the kitchen. He was glad that the local market had a good selection of cheeses and olives, and soon he was done arranging it, ready for her pleased response.

Except it didn't happen. He laid the tray quietly on the coffee table, and gently nudged her shoulder. "Sweetie?" Nothing. She was curled up, feet tucked under her, and somehow she still looked cold. He scowled at the tray, unsure what to do, but as he settled onto the couch, she gravitated towards him and wrapped an arm across his chest. He smiled at her sleeping form, thinking this wasn't what he had planned, but if she was this tired he wasn't going to push it. He furrowed his brows, recalling that she was usually the insomniac of the couple, and settled back into the cushions. He reached for the remote, and idly watched for a while as he snacked.

* * *

"So, boys, nachos?" Carole asked as they tumbled into the car.

"Perfect, mom!" Finn quickly answered, before turning to Blaine to add, "my mom's nachos are the best!"

Carole smiled as the boys chattered happily, and Rachel and Finn had called dibs on the back seat of the minivan. Burt looked at the happy teens, and shared a contented look with her: both of their children were happy, with people they both liked, and it had indeed been a great game night. "I'm really glad I went shopping last night," she commented to him.

"Me too," Burt smiled back at her. "You do make the best nachos ever."

"I heard that, dad!" Kurt chimed in.

Carole laughed. "Relax, Kurt, I've got it covered; I got the good stuff, and by good stuff I mean the stuff that is both heart healthy and tasty at the same time."

Kurt looked slightly deflated. "Did you get the fresh salsa, low salt?"

Burt gently stepped in. "Kurt, Carole is a cardiac nurse."

"And, yes, I did," she chuckled, witnessing yet another round of their endless food fights. "That stuff is delicious, by the way. Honey, it's all set."

Kurt caught the glance his father shot at him. "Sorry, Carole. I know you know what you're doing. I guess I just got too used to -"

"Being my resident food cop," Burt finished.

Carole pursed her lips then gave him a gentle smile. "You're off duty tonight, mister. Just be a kid, enjoy the nachos, and obey the curfew." She looked towards the back row, "all of you."

* * *

Sebastian insisted on paying for the drive through they stopped at, and Dave quickly forgot any objections as he dove into the food they'd be consuming on the way to the movie. He decided to speak up, though, when the boy flashed his onyx black credit card again to pay for the tickets.

"You're pre-approved, sir. No signature needed," and the clerk passed two tickets across the counter to him, along with his card.

"'Bastian, what the hell?" he whispered. "I can pay for my own damned ticket. And food, for that matter."

Sebastian stopped, and looked at him for a moment with a raised eyebrow. "Growly, it's my pleasure."

"What? You insist you don't date, and you pay for my food, and then my movie ticket -"

"Stop right there, Bear Cub. This card," he tapped the black card he hadn't put away yet, "and a few others similar to it, are my allowance. Part of my _bribe_, along with the Jag. Keep your nose clean, and charge what you need. That's the deal. Drive through and a couple of movie tickets is still cheaper than a night at Scandals, and they might actually even approve of it. You really want to save my asshole father money that badly?"

Dave had watched Sebastian's face change during his short speech, and he was sure he detected sadness there. Fuck! He thought; Sebastian's parents paid for everything, sure, but they didn't seem to care about him, as long as he did whatever he did quietly. He thought of his dad, and ached for what his friend didn't have. "Deal. Next time I'm ordering the steak sandwich then."

"Now you're catching on," and just like that, Sebastian's usual smirk returned, as the boys headed towards the theater where the Bond movie was playing.

* * *

Michael woke up first. As usual, Christine was sleeping in one of his tees, and hadn't awakened yet. He'd coaxed her into bed, and she had gratefully and willingly fallen right back to sleep. Then he heard the chime of his phone again, and realized what had ruined his sleep.

"Anderson here. Robert, what are you calling for at this hour?" he spoke quietly, and eased himself off the bed and out of the room to talk.

"It's after nine AM, I thought you'd be up. We've got some action on the Palmer deal, I think they may be willing to close soon. I thought you'd want in on the meeting."

Michael groaned. "I can be there in 45. God, I hope this doesn't take all day."

"Shouldn't. All right, I'll email you the latest version of the contract so you can look it over before you get here."

"Good. See you then." He sighed. He'd really hoped to get away with not working this Saturday, not at the office anyway, but he felt obligated. He hastily swept through his morning routine, and couldn't help but smile as Christine blearily smiled at him.

"Hi, honey," she murmured. "Where you going?"

He frowned, really not wanting to leave. "It's the Palmer deal. Bastards suddenly want to deal. On Saturday morning."

"Oh, baby … that's just rude," she drawled, and he laughed, loving her humor, and noting that she hadn't called him that since, well... _before_.

"Exactly!" he smiled and bent to kiss her forehead.

"Do you need your chief of accounting present?" she wondered, not really wanting to go in.

"No, sleepyhead," he tousled her hair, and showed her the document open on his tablet. "I think that end of it is pretty well figured out."

"We'll see about that," she grumped. "I'm checking their figures."

"You do that," he chuckled. "Look, I gotta go."

"Tell me when you think you'll get out; I'll fix brunch."

"Is that a date, love?" She giggled at the obvious heart-eyes he turned on her.

"Yes, it's a date. Now go, and make sure you screw them to the wall for messing with your Saturday morning," she said sternly, before breaking into a giggle.

"Yes, ma'am." He checked his watch. "Damn! Gotta go. Love you!" And he dashed out.

She smiled at the doorway, wondering if he knew half of what he said when he was distracted. She knew him well, and she moved to the window to watch him as he pulled away. My man, she thought, nodding her head; either tipsy or distracted, the same result: no filter. Did he realize this at all?

**A/N: Okay, two updates in a row; I hope you enjoy! As always, I do love hearing from you, it always makes me smile. Oddball request: if you've got a number you'd like to see, please let me know (you can tuck it into a review if you like). I once included 21 as a reader request (not knowing then that Ryan Murphy had just pronounced that this was the age Kurt would get married at). So, whether it's a birthday or something else, if you've got a candidate, let me know, and I'll be happy to include it in an upcoming chapter. I hope you all have a fantastic week!**


	73. Chapter 73

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. See the note at the end; when it comes to plot, sometimes you get by with a little help from your friends.**

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … Michael keeps wanting to have a talk with Christine, but he keeps getting put off – first by a sleepy Chris, then an urgent work call on Saturday morning. What's up with that? Meanwhile, Blaine stayed over again at chez Hummel – so what if he has to sleep in Finn's room! And Dave and Sebastian had a fun not-date at the movies … so that's what you missed!]_

"Thanks, Carole, that was a great breakfast!"

Carole smiled at Kurt's dapper, always appreciative boyfriend. "You're so welcome, honey. I think you like breakfast almost as much as Finn."

Blaine smiled at her, and got up to join Kurt at the sink. "What's not to love? Waffles and strawberries, with bacon?" He stood close to Kurt, who handed him a dish towel.

"Any leftover bacon?" Burt ducked his head into the kitchen.

"Dad! No going over your limit!" Kurt squawked, missing his father's look of pure mischief directed at Carole.

Burt chuckled, sidling up to Carole and saying to her in a stage whisper, "You know, some things are just too easy." Kurt huffed as Blaine tried but failed to suppress a giggle. God, he loved these people, he thought as he handed a dried pan to Kurt to put away. Carole didn't say a thing, but just smiled, looking at the guys crowding the kitchen, and happy that she had a Saturday morning at home.

"More coffee?" She asked, already on her way to fill the carafe. She smiled at the expected chorus of "yes, pleases". Deciding to go for a full pot, she turned to Burt. "Do you think this is a good time to talk about it?"

Burt turned to the boys, and looked over to the living room, where Finn was checking something on the computer. He nodded, and asked Kurt. "You boys have a bit of time?"

Kurt put down his cloth, and looked over at his father and Carole. "Sure, dad." And motioned for Blaine to come sit with them at the table.

"May as well get Finn in here," Carole said, walking off to where he was seated.

"Mom, what's this all about?" Finn saw his family, plus Blaine, sitting at the table.

Carole looked excitedly to Burt, who nodded encouragingly. "Well, boys, we want to talk wedding plans -"

"That's so great! I have so many ideas, and I know just the perfect -"

"Kurt!" Kurt stopped, mid-interruption, brought up short by his father's tone. Burt's expression lightened a bit, and he went on. "Kiddo, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but you need to let Carole talk for a minute, okay?"

"Sorry, dad. Sorry, Carole," Kurt murmured, his face pinking up as he lowered his gaze to his lap. Blaine reached over and quietly placed a hand on his folded hands.

"Honey, it's all right." Carole sounded comforting. "But the thing is, we talked, and we want to be married by Christmas."

Kurt looked up, his face covered with a genuine smile, which only grew as he looked at his father and soon to be step mom, their faces bright with happiness, and a shared look of guilty conspirators. "Do go on!"

"Well, we've realized that all of us are busy. We've got jobs," she beamed fondly at Burt, "and you boys are all busy with school and glee club and sports and things. And you, Kurt, well, honey, I think you have great ideas, but doing all the normal teenage things you do, plus being a wedding planner? I think that's too much. And I agree with your dad; celebrating our first Christmas together as a married couple family would be so great!" Burt beamed back, and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"But, what does that mean? You know I want to help, and I really do have great ideas." Kurt furrowed his brow.

"It means we want your ideas, because they're awesome, but you don't have to do everything, kiddo," Burt's tone was kind but firm. "Finn said he wants to help plan the music, and I know you're full of ideas for decorating and all. Okay, Kurt you look like you're about to burst; just say it."

"Did you pick a date already? I mean, how are we going to book a venue for the reception? How are we gonna have the centerpieces, the outfits, the flowers, the food -"

"Kurt." She looked at him with affection, loving how he wanted everything to be so perfect, and nodded her head, knowing that if she let him, he'd try to carry out all his ideas, but she knew it really was too much, even if he didn't. "Honey, we're going to keep it simple. Neither of us have big, extended families, and this doesn't have to be huge. Heck, even if it was just us sitting here, that would do it. I know what I want: I want this guy, right here," she squeezed Burt's knee, "and we worked it out; the guest list is around thirty. Part of our inspiration came from you, Blaine."

"What? How?"

Burt chimed in. "Allessandro's. That swanky place Kurt went to meet your family. He raved about that dinner!" He grinned at his son. "I checked it out, and it'll work out."

"Details!" Kurt demanded happily.

"We're getting married the second Saturday in December. It'll be a late morning wedding, with a luncheon reception at Allessandro's." She smiled at Finn. "There's a bandstand there, and we can set up your drums and music, like you talked about. There's a baby grand piano there too."

"Cool! I just need to make sure everyone's free," Finn nodded. He turned to Kurt, "I had this idea. Maybe we can ask the glee club to sing for the reception. I mean, both of us are in it, and –"

"That's a great idea!" Kurt pinked up again, adding, "Sorry! I seem to be interrupting a lot today."

"Dude, no problem. So, you'll help me figure out some music ideas, right?"

Blaine cleared his throat. He really didn't want to interrupt, but he finally felt like he had something to add to the conversation. Seeing that everyone noticed, and was looking his way, he smiled at them all, and offered, "I play piano, you know. I'd be happy to be part of this, if you like."

* * *

A few hours later, Blaine kissed Kurt goodbye in the foyer.

"I'm still bummed you get to be Amazing and I won't be there to see it," Kurt grumbled.

Blaine chuckled, and looked into his eyes fondly. "You'd be sharing me with a bunch of little girls, not to mention Wes and David." He placed a soft kiss on Kurt's forehead. "Besides, dummy, you're the one who offered to go help your dad." Seeing the look on Kurt's face, he added quickly, "and I love it that you do that."

"Well, being a guy short on a Saturday afternoon at the shop really stinks." Kurt smiled at Blaine. "Well, look at us, kissing goodbye, going off to our jobs..." He couldn't help it; the image that came to mind of them as adults, kissing goodbye in the morning, knowing they would come back together that night, maybe with a nice dinner if he got home first...

"Kurt?"

_Oops_. Kurt shook himself out of his daydream, to look at the boy in front of him, who looked very amused.

"Um, can you call me later? I think we'll be done about the same time."

Kurt swooped in to give one last quick hug. "Absolutely. Now, go be Amazing."

* * *

The week was going on so slowly, she thought, as she pushed away from her desk a bit to rest her head on her folded arms. A quick cat nap, that's all I need, she thought, before drifting off to sleep.

"Is Chris back from her meeting?" Michael asked Jean, who looked up from tapping away at her computer. Jean smiled, figuring her boss was looking to take her immediate boss out to lunch. She'd heard all about them from Bob in the mailroom, and, like most of the rest of the staff, she wished them well. Jean reflected that for a guy who was about fifty, he really was good looking.

"She got back a while ago, Mr. Anderson. I think she's in her office."

He glanced at the closed door. "Oh." His face seemed to betray indecision for a moment, but then he walked towards her door. "Thanks, Jean." He crossed the space in a few long strides, and stood at her door listening for a moment. Hearing nothing, he knocked softly, and waited. _That's funny,_ he thought, as moments strung together and he stood there. _Maybe Jean's wrong_. The curtains were drawn, so he couldn't see in. He decided to go in.

The lights were off, with muted sunlight shining through the shades. And there was Christine, sound asleep, hunched over her desk. He closed the door quietly, and pondered his options. She was usually quick to awaken to any sounds. He chose the chair nearest her and settled in to it; suddenly not so bent on eating. He checked his watch: a rare day, when he actually had an hour blocked out for lunch. So be it, he decided: I'll use part of it waiting for Sleeping Beauty to wake up. Hmm... except she'll be hungry then... He got out his phone, searched for the menu for the Thai place in town she loved so much, and placed an order. He figured when it was delivered, in about 20 minutes, that would be a good time to wake her. He could wait. He smiled at her, hoping that sleeping like that didn't give her a sore neck. Moving his chair back a little, he went through his email, passing the time until lunch was delivered.

* * *

"So, do you think I should let on that I actually _like_ the number she's got us working on?" Blaine asked, his eyebrows dancing as he walked with Kurt to go to practice.

Kurt smirked at him. It was obvious to anyone watching that Blaine, in fact, loved the big production piece. How his oblivious boyfriend thought he could convince anyone otherwise, when his face was such an open book, was beyond cute. "Sure, Blaine, since you look so oppressed while you're doing it."

Kurt was rewarded with a throaty chuckle, which gave him butterflies in his belly. He was pretty sure Blaine didn't know what some of his many sounds did to him. "Fine, Kurt, I won't pretend I'm suffering. Are you saying I can't act?"

_Maybe just not around me_, Kurt thought. "Anyone who's seen you perform knows that you can totally kill a performance – in the good way," he quickly added. "I'm thinking trying to get something over on Sue, face to face... well, not the same category."

"Okay, fine, we'll let her think she's won," he laughed.

* * *

Michael jumped up, hearing the soft knock at the door. He glanced at Chris, who still was dead to the world. "Thanks, Jean," he murmured, taking the bag from her and placing it on the side table.

He studied her. Maybe they were working too hard lately. Or maybe she was having trouble sleeping again? Pretty sure she wouldn't want to miss lunch altogether, especially from her favorite local take-out, he stood beside her and kissed the top of her head. "Wake up, sleepy head," he cooed, smiling as she opened her eyes, and looked adorably loopy. "I've got something worth waking up for."

She smiled at him, and smelled the food. "Michael, sweetie, um, I'll be right back!" He watched her dart away, brows furrowed in confusion.

**A/N: Short, yes, I know, but I'm inches away from being done with my time consuming course I'm finishing up. Yes, readers, that means back to frequent updates!**

**I've missed writing this, and hearing from you, more than you'd guess. Those numbers I asked for: not forgotten, just not here yet – be patient! **

**For those patient souls still reading, bless you. I'd love to hear from you. Lots of things brewing here, and hoping to update soon. Thoughts? Here's mine, for you: happy Sunday, and I hope this week is full of good things, for all of us.**


	74. Chapter 74

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. **

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … Burt and Carole are getting married – in less than four weeks, and they think they have the perfect plan to rein in Kurt's groomzilla-by-proxy proclivities... um, let me know how that works out, Burt! And Christine's seems to be coming down with something. Meanwhile, Blaine's been roped into the Cheerios but somehow we haven't seen him in uniform yet; is Sue losing her touch? Maybe Kurt has something to do with that. The weekend's coming... ooh, good thing Sebastian never has to worry about paying for gas! So, that's what you missed.]_

She frowned at her paper plate, still half full of her favorite Thai takeout foods.

"It's okay, you know. If you're not feeling good, don't make yourself eat," Michael said softly, smiling an encouraging smile as he reached over to lift her chin slightly. "Do you need to go home? I could talk to the boss, you know," he teased. "You've put in a ton of long days lately, maybe you've just got a stomach thing from too much takeout."

She sighed. "Maybe you're right. You and Blaine both, you never complain about anything like that."

_Not if it means I'm lucky enough to live with you_, he thought. He cleared his throat and stood up, reaching to squeeze her hand. "You're a great cook, and you know it. But you need a break. It's all right; go get some rest. Can you do one thing for me?"

She looked at his eyes, full of urgency. "Sure? What do you want me to do?"

"Promise you'll call me if you don't feel better. Or if you need anything." She nodded her agreement. He stepped towards the door, then seemed to change his mind and turned back to sit close to her again. "Chris, can I check in on you after work? Maybe bring some soup?"

She beamed at him, forgetting for a moment her fatigue and queasiness. "Soup? From the cute delivery guy? How could I say no?" She smiled at how happy this small concession seemed to make him.

"Classic chicken noodle?" He waggled his eyebrows playfully.

"You know it," she giggled. Feeling her unsettled stomach start to reassert itself, she added. "Maybe bring some extra cans."

"As you wish," he murmured, and lifted her hand to kiss it.

"Cheese ball," she giggled again. "Don't be late," she added, trying for a stern tone.

"I will report as ordered, mon capitain," he saluted her, doing his best Q impersonation.

"Tell the boss I said thank you," she answered, smirking at his retreating form.

* * *

**When is practice over? – Dad**

Blaine looked at the message with surprise. His father practically never texted. He showed the message to Kurt, sitting beside him in glee club. "What's up with that?" he whispered. Kurt shrugged, and exchanged a concerned look with him. "Ask him!" he hissed, pointing at the cell phone.

_**About 20 mins. I think. Everything ok? -B.**_

Blaine waited, and soon got a message back. **Your mother went home sick. I'll be over around 6. Go straight home. **Kurt was looking over his shoulder into the phone as he got the message, and his mouth went into a flat line, his whole face tight. He squeezed Blaine's shoulder, and Blaine tapped out another message. _**Is she okay? -B. **_Blaine looked around nervously as he waited for an answer.

**I think so, but I want you to be there for her. **Blaine nodded, and tapped an answer out right away.

_**I'll be there. -B.**_

Kurt called out to Mr. Schue, who was in front of the choir room trying out some moves with Mike and Brittany. "Mr. Schue?"

The teacher looked up, a little irritated at the interruption, until he saw Kurt's face. "Kurt?"

Kurt was already walking to the front of the room, to speak to him quietly. When he was next to his teacher, he said in a soft voice, "is it all right if Blaine leaves a bit early? His mom's sick, and his dad just texted him, asking him to check on her."

Blaine was looking a little lost, but Mr. Schue said, "It's fine, you'll catch up later. Kurt, if you want to go too, that's okay."

"Thanks, Mr. Schue," Kurt answered quickly, and threw his keys to Finn, who caught them with ease.

They walked quickly down the hallway. "You really didn't have to do that, Kurt," Blaine said, "but, you know, I'm glad you did. I mean, it's not like him to do that!"

Kurt opened the door to the parking lot and followed Blaine to his car. "I know." He glanced at his boyfriend's worried face. "Besides, it's not like you would have been concentrating on anything at that point." He got in the passenger side, and buckled himself in. "Come on, we've got a damsel in distress to save."

"I wouldn't let mom hear you say that," Blaine finally broke a smile. "But yeah, we kinda do."

Christine settled herself onto the couch, trying to get comfortable. She felt thirsty, but not really willing to get up. She'd lost track of time, and startled a little when the door opened.

"Mom! Hey, how you doing?" Blaine crouched beside her, noting that she looked pale, washed out; not at all like her usual self.

"Aren't you home early? Oh, hi Kurt," she smiled at her son's boyfriend, standing behind him. "Just a bug, I think." She furrowed her brows, and pursed her lips. "Maybe you should back up, in case it's catching."

Blaine got up, and looked to Kurt.

"Mrs. Anderson, how about we make you some tea? Or maybe get you some juice?" Kurt offered.

"You know, tea would be perfect; I'm parched." She smiled at him. "Blaine's Dalton friends call me Mrs. A., or you can call me Christine, Kurt."

He smiled back at her, "Mrs. A. sounds perfect," and the boys went to the kitchen.

"Thanks."

Kurt turned around at the sound of his voice, to look at Blaine. "What for?"

"You. You got us out of glee to come here early, you seemed to know what mom needed. And I'm glad you're here." Blaine looked at his feet nervously. "I was sort of annoyed for a minute, you know; you taking charge, deciding what I needed to do and all." He looked up, to meet Kurt's gaze. "I hate feeling helpless. But I'm glad you did exactly what you did. And I'm glad I kind of got that before I said something stupid. Because I almost did."

Kurt turned the burner on and settled the kettle on it, then turned back to Blaine. "You know, it was just me and my dad for such a long time; we kind of got used to looking after each other. And remember how I told you about dad's heart attack last year?" Blaine nodded, remembering how much it had upset Kurt, telling him about it even though it had been about a year ago. "It scared the shit out of me." He smiled a lopsided grin at Blaine. "Don't judge me if I panic when I hear about a sick parent."

Blaine stepped forward to hold him; the look in Kurt's eyes added what his words hadn't: Kurt had lost one beloved parent, and had had a serious scare with his remaining one. Holding him there in the kitchen, he was glad that he hadn't gone with his first thought, of insisting everything would be fine and staying until the end of glee, no need to panic. His mom did look awful, and he was glad Kurt was there. "You're perfect, you know," he murmured. "You know just what to do."

They busied themselves soon after, and brought tea and some crackers out to Christine, who was on the phone. "Mimi, you didn't have to do that." She paused and glared at the phone while she listened. "You're only two years older than me you know, and we're adults now!" she hissed. Blaine backed away a little, not really wanting to be a part of this argument. She sighed, and smiled at the phone. "Fine. You know best. You happy?" She nodded, smiling again, listening for a bit. "Look Blaine and his sweet boyfriend Kurt are here, and they just made me tea." She paused. "Yes, I'll be ready." She nodded her head and rolled her eyes as she turned the phone off.

"What's that all about?" Blaine asked. "Here's your tea. Oh, and some crackers, in case you want them."

"Thanks, sweetie. Your father ratted me out to my _sister_, of all people, and she called to talk to me practically as soon as I got home. I took a little nap before you got here," she reached for the tea, adding some sugar and a little milk from the carton on the tray. "Madame Bossypants will be over in half an hour to take me to get looked at."

"Are you okay?" Blaine's voice was suddenly higher than usual, concerned that both his father and his aunt were taking this so seriously.

"Honey, I think they're overreacting. Your father needs his top accountant in fighting form, and my sister? Well, she still thinks I'm thirteen," she grumbled. She sipped gratefully. "I didn't realize how thirsty I was. This is really nice."

Kurt watched her appraisingly. "How about some Powerade, maybe diluted a bit," he suggested. "Maybe you're just dehydrated."

She smiled weakly at him. "Maybe, honey. Blaine, if you can -"

"I'm on it, mom," he answered, already heading towards the kitchen to get it.

She went to get up, suddenly wanting to get to the bathroom. "I've got it," Kurt reached for her hot tea, and offered a hand up. She nodded, and disappeared down the hallway. He frowned, then went to go wash his hands, joining Blaine in the kitchen.

A few minutes later, she joined them again, changed into yoga pants, a pink tee and a black hoodie that matched her pants. Blaine looked at her, mystified: she suddenly looked better, color returning to her cheeks, as she sat up now, and chatted with the boys. He wracked his mind, trying to think of something neutral to talk about. Then he remembered. "Mom! Saturday is dad's birthday. Um, do we have any plans?"

Her face fell. "Oh my God. How could I have forgotten that? What is wrong with my brain?" Seeing the panicked look on her son's face, she hastily added, "Just an expression! I'm fine, really! Maybe just a little forgetful... Um, good question."

"I'm sure this can wait until you feel better," Kurt answered smoothly, then narrowed his eyes at Blaine, who mimed a look of innocence back, as Christine concentrated on sipping her drink.

**A/N: A short chapter, but more to come later! My class is over, for which I am overjoyed (it went fine). **

**To all my loyal reviewers: seeing your feedback, and chatting with you, really make this so much fun. I love to hear your speculations, and I enjoy answering your questions. Wanna know what a character ate for breakfast? Yes, I could tell you; long as this tale is, there's a lot of it that never makes it to the page. I do answer reviews, if they are answerable.**

**As always, I love it when you leave reviews. **


	75. Chapter 75 Revelations, part one

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. **

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … Christine's sister Mimi is dragging her to the doctor, which Michael kind of instigated, but Christine thinks they're all overreacting. Dave's been texting Sebastian, but he's a little bummed that his dad sort of mapped out his weekend for him, all of a sudden. Blaine's kind of worried about his mom. Good thing Kurt's with him. And that's what you missed!]_

"Look, I know I said I'd do it, but can't I get out of Saturday at least? I'll do Sunday and even before school on Monday. Please?"

Paul looked at his son, hating to disappoint him, and breathed a heavy sigh. "Look, son, you and I both know that business is busy on Saturday, and I just can't not be there. And we've been over this before, your mother isn't strong enough for the job, and the damned dogs – I'd swear they know it."

Dave scowled, accepting defeat. "Fine. By the way, I'm totally accepting Uncle Marty's money for this."

Paul smiled sympathetically. "Fair's fair. You're saving him money anyway, and you know how he is about them."

Dave snorted, making his father laugh, which proved contagious. "Fine. I refuse to baby them, though, and I can leave them for most of the day, right?"

"Sure. Your uncle Marty really does appreciate this, you know that, right?"

"I know, dad."

* * *

Why on earth would they make a sick person wait on a weirdly hard excuse for a bed, then put her in a freaking cold room? Christine sulked, waiting in the exam room. She flipped distractedly through the magazine she'd brought in from the waiting room, not really seeing any of it. She'd dutifully given her urine sample, had her vitals taken, and then a while after the nurse had been in to draw blood. She loved her sister, but she was glad to be by herself for now: Mimi could be overbearing, and had a tendency towards nervous chatter, which she wasn't in the mood for now. Christine had been silently grateful for the nurse, who'd been clear from how she said it that she expected that her sister would wait for her in the waiting room.

She checked her watch anxiously, wondering how long she'd been there (she hadn't noticed what time it was when it started). At least her stomach was on its best behavior for the moment. She looked up, on hearing a knock at the door.

"Come in," she called out.

"Hello," the man stepped in, and greeted her with a warm smile. "I'm Dr. Nelson." He shook her hand, and settled down into the wheeled stool opposite her. "How are you doing right now?"

She smiled back. Dr. Nelson was actually Mimi's family doctor; her regular physician was back in Westerville, an hour and a half away, and Mimi had managed to get her a slot. He seemed like a pleasant sort of fellow, she thought; mid fifties, balding a little, trim, with kind eyes. "Well, I'm not too queasy right now, which is great. I've been so tired though; that's almost worse." She didn't say what seemed obvious: you've had people poke and prod me, taken away my urine in its little cup, and the nurse had frowned at her vital signs. She wanted to be better, sooner than later. Preferably, much much sooner.

He nodded, glancing again at the notes the intake nurse had put in her chart, and not needing to look again at the preliminary lab results. "You are a bit dehydrated, and we'll have to watch that, but not bad enough that we have to keep you for that." He paused for a moment, and put the chart down. "I do know what's causing all this. Your pregnancy test came back positive."

He watched as she turned pale, though she looked reasonably steady. He studied her face, trying to determine her reaction; as usual, this was complicated by the fact that she evidently hadn't considered this as a possibility, and was somewhat shocked.

"Pregnancy test?" she whispered. "Oh, my God." She looked at him, trying to understand better. "Are you sure?"

"I am." His face gave away nothing. "We tested your urine first, while checking for other things. When that came back positive, I had Nancy come in to get a blood test. Sorry, that's what part of the waiting was about. It is also positive, as well as showing low potassium and magnesium, as well as a bit of hemoconcentration. Again, not bad enough to admit you to the hospital, though we will have to treat you for it." He looked at her, but still couldn't read her, beyond shock at the news. "It's still very early in the pregnancy, and you do have options we should discuss..."

"I … how did I not know this?" she spluttered. "How did this happen?"

Through years of practice, and countless patients, he knew better than to take this as something funny. He noted the wedding ring on her hand, and remembered that she did have one child, who was almost eighteen. "You were thinking you wouldn't get pregnant," he offered, his voice carefully neutral.

He was a stranger, and she didn't want to go into how both she and her husband had gotten distracted by work, and had quietly decided to let the idea of having more children go. And had even more quietly (and sometimes not quietly at all) drifted apart after Blaine came out, only made worse after he was viciously attacked. She certainly didn't want to tell him that she'd ended up sleeping with him that first night at his house, and neither of them had given a thought to birth control – they hadn't had sex since she'd learned of his infidelity up until then. She was getting too old for this, she thought, and then just as quickly admitted to herself that she hadn't thought at all, just acted. "No," she finally answered him. "Not at all."

The rest of the visit had gone by in a haze; the doctor's gentle reassurance that a healthy 43 year old could indeed have a healthy child (though he also gave her the names of specialists for high risk pregnancies), the nurse who came back in, with plenty of sympathy, as well as handouts on a dizzying array of pregnancy data. She was irritated that medicine hadn't advanced in the treatment of early pregnancy queasiness; she remembered it had been the same when she'd carried Blaine, and it irritated her exactly the same now. By the time she joined Mimi, clutching all the tell-tale literature, with pictures of pregnant women and babies splashed across the covers, somehow she'd already started to get used to the idea, she thought.

Mimi had cried, overwhelmed with all the feelings this brought to her, which hadn't helped her, and she soon joined her in crying, out in her sister's car. Minutes later, having exhausted Mimi's supply of tissues, she sat up straight and looked to her sister. "Take me to his house, okay?"

"You don't have to decide right now, Chrissy! Just because you're -"

"No, Mimi. Listen. It's okay. I'd really already decided, before I knew. I mean," she pointed to her belly, "about this." She leveled a serious look at her sister. "I slept with him. More than once. You really think I'd do that if I didn't want to go back with him?"

Mimi smiled nervously, and reached to hug her sister again. "No, I know you wouldn't." She closed her eyes, praying her sister wasn't making a mistake. "You sure you're up for this now?"

"I am. Suddenly, I'm wide awake, for the first time in days!" She giggled, and Mimi couldn't help but join her: her sister suddenly looked so young, like a naughty girl who'd been caught but who wasn't a bit sorry. "Better take advantage of it! Besides," and she looked serious again, "I don't think I can keep this to myself. Can Blaine go eat with you guys?"

* * *

She settled into the sectional, stretching out, sipping her mint tea (she wasn't looking forward to cutting back on her beloved caffeine as much as the nurse told her to), and nibbling absently at the crackers. Must be adrenaline or something, she thought, as her mind felt clearer than it had in days, and her stomach continued to mostly be on its best behavior. She smiled at her phone; Michael's returning text when she'd told him of a change in plans had been lightning fast: he'd assured her he'd be there soon, and had followed up with a call she'd deliberately kept short.

Now that he was almost here, she felt creeping nerves. She tried to push them away, but to no avail. She rehearsed again in her head what she wanted to say, and (very importantly) the order she wanted to say it in. She thanked God that the brain fog she'd been in for days had been scared away.

She heard the solid sound of the car door closing, followed quickly by the man himself entering the house.

"Chris!" He hurried over to her, dumping the bags he was carrying on a side table. "Are you all right?"

She smiled up at him, and pulled him in for a hug, and melted into his arms as he molded himself to her. "Better now."

He searched her face, and broke into a brilliant smile, as he saw confirmation there. "Tell me all about it."

She straightened up, and made room for him to sit beside her. She looked away, then closed her eyes, rehearsing one more time, before turning back to him. "Michael, I have a few things to tell you. Just let me tell you my own way, my own order. Can you do that?"

"Of course," he murmured, eyes bright, attention totally focused on her. She smiled at him; she knew he was forcing himself to hold back. His lawyer-brain wanted to cross-examine, control the dialogue. However, she knew he knew himself, and could turn it off if he had to.

"First off, I know you want to tell me more about … what happened. You think there's more I need to know." She held up a hand to stop any thought he might have had of interrupting. "But you've apologized, so many times, in so many ways, and I know the most important part of it: that you mean it when you say you're sorry, and that you want me back." She stroked his hands, clenched together tightly on his lap. His face didn't give away his tension nearly as much as his hands did. "And I believe you, when you say you love me." Her eyes misted up, and she cleared her throat. "I never stopped loving you. That's probably why it hurt so much."

She was surprised then, as his eyes filled with tears; she'd practically never seen him cry. "Chris -"

She nodded no, and placed her finger on his lips gently. "I've got to say this, in order, so wait your turn." She removed her finger and leaned forward to kiss him, and he leaned to meet her when he realized what she was doing. They parted after a chaste kiss, and she continued. "That's why I stayed, that first night you showed me this lovely place. You wanted to make a home here, not a bachelor pad or a longterm stay at the Residence Inn to establish the new satellite office. And the whole satellite office," she smirked, "let me just say, I was _on_ to you, mister."

He chuckled at her teasing mode, so familiar to him. "And I saw how you were working so hard to be a good father. He resisted you, you know, at first. I wondered too, and Mimi didn't trust it at all," she smiled a regretful, lopsided smile. "But I paid attention, and I saw it: that you really wanted to make it right, and you worked hard to do it. You won Blaine over, finally," and they both shared a smile at this, sharing this happiness, "but you won me back first. But I was afraid to let you know that. I feel so stupid, the things that fear made me say, or not say."

"You had every right," he said softly, his voice tight. "I don't deserve you."

"Of course you don't," she teased him. "But no interrupting." And she swatted his arm playfully. "Ahem! As I was saying, I can't believe I did this, but I'd really decided to take you back, come what may, before … that night. You went on proving that you meant it, in so many ways." She looked down. "I think what kept me from coming back to you, all the way, was I didn't want to hear it all; I was afraid of the pain." She looked away, towards the back of the house. "You were so patient. And I know you – that isn't your default mode. But I kept my little house, feeling the need of a place to run away to, and you didn't pressure me." She turned towards him, and wiped away a tear from his face, and he leaned into her hand. "Except after that night, I never felt settled there; I was restless, looking forward to seeing you – at work, or going to see Blaine's games, or at either one of our houses. I only felt at home when you were there too, wherever it was."

She drew a deep breath, and stroked his hands again, not even aware she was doing so. "So, I decided, last weekend, that I wanted to tell you this. That I wanted you back in my life, all the way, that I was ready. You insisted you wanted to tell me more, as if I needed that to convince me." She looked at him directly, and raised her hands, so they were cradling his face on each side. "I don't need it. No, I really don't. Don't interrupt -" she warned, "I'm almost done. I swear it." He smiled, and closed his mouth, his eyes bright. "Then, I agreed to let you talk it out, and we even sent Blaine away for a sleepover," she giggled, "not like it was hard to convince him, and then I was so tired, I think every time you wanted to talk to me I fell asleep on you."

"That you did, my lady." His eyes danced now, and she could tell he wanted to say more.

"Well, today, the tiredness I'd felt all week hit me hard. That and the nausea, that started a couple of days ago, and just wouldn't quit." She arched a brow at him. "You sent me home, and I was too tired to argue. And then, bad boy!" she swatted his arm, "you sicked _my sister_ on me, of all people, and made Blaine come home early, scared half to death! Really?"

"What? I wanted to make sure you had someone looking after you. You looked dehydrated," he protested, putting on his best 'who me?' innocent face.

"You really are a world-class meddler, you know," she mock scolded him. "Blaine was so good; he had Kurt with him, and they made me tea and made me sip Powerade -"

"That's so sweet," he interrupted, then became quiet as she cocked an eyebrow.

"And then Mimi rushed me into her doctor's. How she managed, since I don't even go there, I'll never know."

"Well, she can be … ah, persuasive," he agreed, choosing the most diplomatic term he could summon.

"All right." She paused. "This gets to where the order of what I told you is important. So, I'd already decided, before the appointment."

"You don't think I could possibly forget that," he crooned, reaching to bring her to his side, where she settled against him.

"No, Mr. Anderson, your recall for what the witness says or doesn't say is legendary, as always," she teased. "Okay." She breathed, and craned her neck to look up at him, from her resting space, cuddled against him. "I'm not sick." He bit his lip, clearly having to work hard not to speak now. "I'm pregnant."

She barely had the words out, before he was crushing her to his chest, holding her so close, his head down beside hers as he curled his whole body to hold her. She felt him shaking, as her hands reached around his chest to hold him. "Michael, are you... are you crying?"

He kissed the top of her head and leaned back so she could see his face. "Maybe. I'm just so happy. This is amazing!" He leaned forward, moving his hands to cradle her face and kissed her, a sloppy, salty kiss that briefly deepened before he pulled away. "You're amazing. And this is great!" A shadow of worry crossed his face. "Wait – you didn't tell me how you feel about this -"

She laughed, and kissed his nose. "Perfect, now. I mean, I was shocked as hell in the doctor's office. I thought I had a stomach bug! But when I had a little more time, well, I was hoping you'd be happy. I mean, I'm a little scared, but I'm excited!"

His brows furrowed. "The doctor thinks you're okay, though, right?"

"Well, except for a little dehydrated, and my electrolytes were off a bit, yeah. He wants me to rest for a couple of days, drink plenty, take my supplements, and run some blood tests on Monday to make sure things are okay for me. As far as he can tell, my pregnancy hormones are going great guns in there." She smiled bashfully at her abdomen.

"I knew it!" He looked like he'd been holding that back for quite a while.

"What?" She shot him a look rife with skepticism. "You did not."

"I'm afraid I did," he smiled at her. "Or, should I say, strongly suspected."

"When? Not that I believe you," she added.

"It all came together for me at lunch time, though I wonder if my subconscious knew it before." He smirked at her snort of disbelief. "Today sealed it though, when I thought of the time frames, and all the evidence."

"Stop it. No way!" she protested.

"You forget, my dear, I know your 'tell'."

"My what?!"

He smiled triumphantly. "Dead giveaway. It was exactly the same when you were pregnant with Blaine. First the nonstop sleepiness, to which was added a few days later nonstop queasiness. And, I dunno, a certain look. I suspected when I sent you home."

"You're kidding."

"Not at all. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to wait through your whole speech, to finally get around to telling me?" He smiled at her fondly, playing with her hair.

"Prove it. I call baloney, mister."

"As you wish, my dear. I just so happen to have proof." He walked over to the bags he'd deposited on the side table when he walked in. He took out the miniature rose bouquet carefully first.

"Um, flowers. Nice, but not proof positive." She looked at them, the tiny red buds and sprays of baby's breath surrounding them. "Not exactly proof."

He took out the cans of chicken noodle soup, and a box of saltines.

"Well, that's just getting what I told you to get. Really?" Skepticism was plain on her face.

He held up one last box, leaving it for last. "You dog! You did know!" and she promptly beaned him with a couch pillow as he held up the box of instant mashed potatoes.

"Told you," he smiled at her. "With Blaine, I remember it was the only thing that made the nausea go away. You'd have a bowl of them when we got home from work, and after it settled, you'd be able to eat a regular dinner. And you ate them at lunch, and sometimes breakfast too, for two months!"

She mock pouted. "Fine. You won, Sherlock, you figured it out before I did. Happy?"

"Over the moon," he answered. He crossed the room to crouch in front of her, and kissed her hands, before looking at her face to face. "Will you stay here now?" She sighed, sad that he was still uncertain.

"I thought you'd never ask," she quipped. "There's nowhere else I want to be. I love you."

"Oh God, I love you, so so much," he answered. And then they found they had no need for words at all, for quite some time after that.

* * *

Sebastian smiled, seeing the notice on his phone that he had a new message from Dave. Thad noticed that his smile vanished, leaving a grumpy-looking roommate in its place.

"Problems?" Thad ventured.

"Yeah." Sebastian scowled at his phone. "Dave can't come this Saturday. Remember, he was going to come for our mini concert Saturday morning at the Trustees' brunch, and come hang out." He texted back to Dave, and frowned over at Thad.

"Well, you do know that technically he shouldn't have been able to be there, being as he's not a student and all."

"Had that covered," Sebastian asserted. "He was going to borrow one of Trent's blazers; he would have fit right in."

Thad decided to keep his opinion about that to himself, and asked instead, "why isn't he coming?"

Sebastian checked another message, then looked up. "Family thing. Involving dog sitting, of all things."

"Why can't you go there after brunch," Thad suggested.

Sebastian smiled, and texted back to Dave. "Why indeed not? Maybe he could use a little company. I mean, how much trouble could watching a couple of canines be?"

**A/N: Well, dear readers, I hope you liked it. That middle section? A big thing to write! I'd thought about it for a long time, and I'd love to hear your thoughts.**

**In gambling (or, I suppose, in the practice of law, where observation is so important) a 'tell' is how one gambler might be able to read another: figure out what someone's 'tell' is and you'll beat them at poker (for instance, maybe they frown and look to their left shoe when they lie). Michael insists he knew since once he considered the evidence, Christine's body showed the same signs, in the same sequence, when she was pregnant before. He was paying attention, so he figured it out.**

**This was Revelations, part _one_.**


	76. Chapter 76, Revelations, part two

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. **

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … Christine told Michael she wants him back, which made him all kinds of happy, and then dropped her big news: she's pregnant! And, well, Michael is over the moon about it (but he reveals to her that he kinda knew). Blaine has no idea what's up, and he's worried about his mom. Meanwhile, Dave's ruined weekend, dog-sitting for his Uncle Marty's spoiled pooches, is maybe looking like it's not going to be so ruined after all. So, that's what you missed!]_

_Jumping back to when Christine was in Mimi's car ..._

"Kurrrt!" Blaine whined, getting up from the couch, where Kurt had attempted to distract him with a Project Runway marathon. "Why is this taking so long? If they were in such a hurry to make the appointment, why isn't it done with?"

Kurt sighed, and his face settled into a sideways frown. He'd become more conversant with medical protocols than he'd ever wanted to, back when his father had his heart attack, and the recovery after. "Blaine, just because it's taking time doesn't mean anything bad. Or even anything at all. And your aunt drove her there, so she should be okay. Want to make her some muffins for later? She should be able to eat the basic ones."

"I just wish she hadn't left her phone behind," Blaine grumbled, then held a hand out to his boyfriend, who got up from the couch with a soft smile.

"C'mon, mister. I think you need to learn some cooking basics. Maybe we'll make one batch plain, and one with chocolate chips."

"Do we even have chocolate chips?" Blaine mused, following Kurt into the kitchen. Kurt was already opening the cabinet with the baking ingredients, and held aloft the prized ingredient triumphantly.

"Do you mean _these_?" he asked innocently.

"Do you suppose I could steal just a few," Blaine cajoled, turning puppy dog eyes on Kurt and angling his head to match, where it came to rest on Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt snickered, about to answer him, when Blaine's phone chirped, alerting him of a new text. He watched as Blaine read it. **Your mom is fine. I'm coming to bring you to my house for dinner. Auntie M.**

"That's weird; Aunt Mimi never texts. I didn't know she knew how to do it," Blaine murmured. He looked up. "If mom's fine, why am I going to her place?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Blaine, ask her!"

"Oh right." He fired off a text, fingers fast from practice. _**Where's mom? Is she feeling better? B.**_

**She's fine. She went to your dad's place. She said I should feed you. Auntie M.**

"What's up with that?" Blaine scowled. "It's not like I'm ten or something, she doesn't need to farm me out like that!"

"Blaine, if you'd rather wait here, just tell her," Kurt reasoned. "I'm sure we can figure dinner out."

* * *

Mimi turned to her sister. "Do you think he's figured anything out?"

Christine sniffled, her nose still a bit runny. "No, but I'm glad for texting. I think your voice would have given away something."

Mimi gave her sister a look of disbelief, "I can handle this. He won't know until you tell me to tell him, I swear." She looked at her phone, with another message. "God, this kid loves to text. If he keeps it up, I'm gonna tell him I'm driving just to shut him up!" Both sisters laughed at this, and looked at the message. _**I can stay here and eat, if that's okay. Kurt's with me. B.**_

"You know, that may be best," Christine said. "I want to tell him when I'm ready, and that should be fine."

"That means I can tell Mark, right?" Mimi asked. "Don't even say it, I'm smarter than that – I won't tell the girls until you give the word." She smiled fondly at her sister.

"Of course you can tell him. Here, I'll send a message for you; you drive me to Michael's," and she grabbed Mimi's phone.

"Impersonating your older sister? Should I allow this?" Mimi teased. "Fine. Just this once." She kissed her sister's forehead and turned on the car. "Someone's eager," she whispered.

"I heard that." Christine stuck her tongue out at Mimi, and finished the text. **Okay, she'll call you soon. Love you. **"Nosy."

"It _is_ my phone, you know."

"More driving, less yapping," she chided, and handed the phone back to her, looking straight ahead and smiling.

* * *

"Blaine, what's with the look?" Kurt wondered. "We can cook dinner and make some muffins... What?"

"I dunno, message didn't sound like her." He didn't want to say it, but 'Love you' wasn't Mimi's style. Not that she didn't love him, he knew for a fact that she did, but that wasn't how she demonstrated it. Did it mean she was worried about something? Why the reassurance? He shook his head, as if trying to shake off the case of nerves that was threatening. He turned to Kurt, and with a waggle of his brows said, "So, what's for dinner?"

* * *

Michael gathered up his wife from the couch, and lovingly kissed her again, which she happily returned. He almost jumped when he looked up at the clock. "Oh, um, it's been like an hour since I got home."

"I better call Blaine," she finished for him, and they shared a smile.

"Yeah, I don't want him to worry," Michael agreed, pulling away from her reluctantly to get to a phone.

"It's all right, tiger," she purred, "I'm sleeping here tonight. And the night after, and the night after that," and he beamed and leaned down to kiss her one more time.

"I love you," he murmured.

"I know you do. Now, go call Blaine!" she smiled as he loped off to fulfill her command, and stretched lazily. She noted then that she felt suddenly hungry, but also a bit queasy; then she grinned, getting up and crossing to the forgotten bags of groceries, and the flowers that still needed attention. "Ah, how I've missed you," she cooed at the box of instant mashed potatoes.

* * *

"These muffins are great," Blaine reached for another one, and Kurt frowned as he slathered it with butter. "What?"

"If they're so great they shouldn't need a pound of butter," Kurt grumped. "Not exactly heart healthy, Blaine."

Chastened, Blaine scraped a little of the butter off. "Fine. They went well with the soup, too."

Kurt frowned a bit, then tried to hide it. When he'd gone to make dinner, there really hadn't been a lot of choices; the fresh foods were in short supply, and he hadn't wanted Blaine to eat leftovers from the takeout cartons cluttering the fridge. He'd settled for canned tomato soup, with some cheese and dishes of sliced peaches on the side. He knew Christine was a good cook, but it seemed like things were off, to judge from the evidence in the kitchen. He wondered how long she'd been sick, and how tired she must have been from whatever it was. He knew he'd succeeded in distracting Blaine with making the muffins, and eating their simple supper, but he was starting to worry about why there had been no call yet, when Blaine's phone chimed.

Blaine reached for it and answered quickly, noting that his dad was the one calling. "Dad? Is mom with you? Is she feeling any better?"

Kurt watched as he listened.

"Okay," Blaine answered. "Kurt's with me; can he come along? I'll have to give him a ride home, he came here with me earlier." Blaine nodded, and looked up at Kurt. "Okay. We'll be right over."

"Good news?" Kurt asked, feeling like he didn't really need to: Blaine looked relieved, and back to his usual self.

"Yeah, dad says mom's okay, and she's feeling better. He asked if I could come over. Should we bring the muffins?" He eyed the almost-cool muffins on the counter.

"Sure." Kurt smiled. "Your dad's always giving me treats. My turn to return the favor." He sent a quick text to his dad, and helped arrange the muffins for the trip in a basket he lined with a cloth napkin.

* * *

Michael turned to Christine. "Kurt's coming too. Is it okay if he knows?"

She smiled and nodded. "Absolutely. Besides, I think Blaine'd have a hard time not telling him. And he's a dear; he was fussing over me like you wouldn't believe."

_I like that kid more and more_, he thought. "What do you think Cooper will say?"

"I imagine he'll take it in stride, and then start in with giving Blaine tips on how to be a big brother," she giggled. "I mean, he was cute when he tried to take care of Blaine, but, um, not exactly as capable as he thought he was."

"You mean like putting his diaper on backwards?" He grinned at her.

"I'd forgotten about that one," she laughed. "I mean like trying to give him a whole bowl of cereal, Cooper-sized, when Blaine started on solids, or like when Blaine first started to crawl and he left him on the floor on his blanket, then freaked out when he couldn't find him a few minutes later."

"I remember! And Blaine laughed so loud when Coop found him, behind the big overstuffed chair. But Cooper really had panicked, so he yelled at him for scaring him, and Blaine burst into tears and wouldn't stop until Coop rocked him to sleep in his arms."

She smiled a fond smile. "Those were some of my favorite times, seeing Coop snuggle his baby brother in the recliner, singing him to sleep, and sometimes putting himself to sleep in the process." She reached for his hand. "We can do this, right?"

"We can. I'm just so amazed by it all. You make me so happy."

They heard the car in the driveway, and Michael spoke next. "Show time."

"Sure is," she agreed. "I'll do most of the talking, okay?"

He nodded his agreement, and watched as Blaine came in, followed by Kurt, carrying a basket with a cloth napkin covering something.

"Boys, come on in," he greeted them, and waved for them to sit down.

"Mrs. A., you look like you're feeling a bit better," Kurt ventured. "I made some muffins while we were at your house. I figured the plain ones would be good for you. I made some with chocolate chips too."

"This is a switch, aren't I the one usually bearing treats?" Michael teased. "But those look great. We'll have to have some, in a bit."

She waited for them to get settled, and reached over to rest a hand on Blaine's knee. "Well. We have a couple of things to tell you." She smiled at Michael, then looked back at Blaine. "First, we're going to move, you and me... we're going to come live here."

"Wow! Ah, when?" Blaine looked between his parents, who both looked happy. "I mean, great. So that means..."

"Yes, it means things are going to be all right with us," she reassured him, looking at her husband. "I told your dad already that you have dibs on the basement," she added, knowing he'd want to recreate his practice space.

"Thanks, mom, dad," he said, and got up to hug his mom first, with a kiss to her cheek, and then his father. "I'm happy for you. At least this move should be pretty easy, I mean it's like a seven minute drive away from here."

Kurt watched Blaine, relieved that he seemed good with the news so far. He was happy for Blaine's parents too, and had to admit they looked like they'd worked their problems out.

She cleared her throat, and took a deep breath. "So, the other news." The boys looked at her expectantly. "Blaine, how do you feel about being a big brother?" She smiled shyly.

Kurt noticed that Blaine's expression was comical, but he manged to hold himself back from laughing. His eyebrows shot up, and he looked shocked, like he'd been freshly slushied.

"Wow, um, mom, dad, are you going to adopt, or become foster parents?" Blaine spluttered. "I mean, um, wow, I didn't expect ..."

Michael waited for Blaine to finish, an amused expression playing over his features. When Christine looked to him, he mimed an 'after you' motion, to let her speak first if she chose to.

"Blaine, no, I mean that I'm going to have a baby," she said quietly.

Kurt's face broke into a huge grin, but Blaine continued to look utterly shocked, while Michael kept his eyes on his son, as did his mother. "Blaine? Say something, sweetie," she pleaded.

"Oh! Mom … that's … that's … wow, I never expected that. Are you sure you're okay?" His expression changed from shocked to worried. "I mean, is it still okay to have a baby, since -" his voice trailed off.

Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine, and took advantage of the pause hanging in the air. "Blaine, people have babies at her age, more and more nowadays." He got up to stand beside her. "Congratulations. To both of you." She stood up to give him a hug, and Blaine seemed to finally shake out of his stupor.

"Mom, that's incredible! I mean, as long as you're okay, I think it's great." He hugged her as Kurt stepped away to shake Michael's hand. He spoke over her shoulder to address his father. "All those years I wanted a little brother or sister. I'd kind of given up hope," and they shared a gentle laugh. "Does Coop know yet?"

"No, honey. You wanna help us tell him?" she asked.

Blaine grinned, and shared a hug now with his dad. "Totally. I can't wait to hear his advice. Don't worry, I promise to take it with a huge grain of salt." Turning to Kurt he added, "Coop is _so_ going to freak!"

**A/N: Blaine's phone chirps with a Warbler bird call when he gets a text. Just so you know. Auntie M. is a sideways Oz reference (I did just see the new movie last night, which I liked quite a lot), and also Blaine's nickname for his beloved auntie. I hope you liked Revelations, part two. Next up... part three! You know I love to hear from you. Sorry this took a little longer than I expected; for me, it's still technically the weekend (1:42 AM, Monday, or, as you day shift people would think of it, Sunday night).**


	77. Chapter 77, Revelations, part three

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. And now, for Revelations, part three (good things come in threes...)**

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … So, now Christine and Michael will be back together full time, and expecting a baby to boot! Blaine? He's kinda shocked, but happy, in a dazed way. Should he be allowed to drive in this state?! And Blaine's about to get some big brotherly big brother wisdom... um, is that a good thing? Well, at least maybe Sebastian will be a better dog-sitter … oopsie, let's not get ahead of ourselves... So, that's what you missed!]_

Cooper glanced at his computer, noting the tweeting noise that alerted him to a message. He pushed his sunglasses back up on his head, and plastered on his brightest smile as he recognized the Skype notification from across the room. "Never know when an audition's in the offing," he noted. Getting closer, accepting the call he noted it was from Blaine.

His smile shifted into a teasing brotherly one instead, as he answered, and saw Blaine come into view. "Squirt! To what do I owe the honor?"

Blaine rolled his eyes at the nickname and decided to blow by it, as he placed the laptop on the kitchen table, where his parents sat opposite it, with Blaine and Kurt standing behind them. "Hey, Coop!" "Hi, Sweetie" "Hey son," they all chorused together, along with Kurt's silent wave.

"Whoa! What're you all doing there on a Thursday night?" He grinned and managed to look mystified at the same time. He noticed that they all looked happy, though maybe a bit on edge too. Excited, maybe?

"We wish you were here, sweetie, but I wanted you to know right away," and he watched as Christine smiled at Michael, a smile that was a flashback for him, full of affection and humor, met with his intense attention in return, and a genuine smile with dancing eyes, looking like the usually dignified man was planning mischief. "Okay, well, first, Blaine and I are moving in with your dad."

"Awesome! I'm so happy for you guys!" He punctuated this with an enthusiastic fist pump in the air. "That's great." He frowned a pretend pout. "Sorry I don't get to help with the move, but hey, really, I'm happy for you. Both of you. Well, and you, Blaine." He looked right at Kurt. "Oh, Kurt, he's already got pajamas here, so he doesn't have to pack any of those for tonight."

Kurt turned to Blaine, and shook his head, looking utterly confused, as they heard Cooper's laughter. "I'll tell you later," Blaine muttered. "Thanks, Coop." And he rolled his eyes and put on a sour expression. Kurt looked between the two brothers, and giggled, especially when he saw that whatever this was about, Michael was in on it too, and trying to hide his laughter behind the hand that wasn't holding Christine's.

"Boys," Christine groaned, then brightened, turning to the screen. "Well, that's not the only news, honey. Blaine's going to need big brother lessons," and she broke into a huge grin, "I'm having a baby!"

"What! Oh my God! Wow, that's …" Now it was Cooper's turn to look utterly gobsmacked. "Congrats! To you both, I mean." He smiled at them, wide-eyed. "Now, that I did not see coming. Tell me everything!"

* * *

The next day in school Blaine regretted how late it was when they finally went to sleep. He remembered dropping Kurt off, their ride to his house the first moment they had had alone together since the big news.

He remembered Kurt asking him carefully, once they were alone, "So, love, how are you really? That's a lot to take in in one night. I was afraid I was maybe gonna have to catch you, like in some sit-com or something." He stroked Blaine's slightly stubbly jawline.

"Well, I'm happy, first. I mean, they look really happy together, don't they? So, I should be happy for them too. I guess they must have talked about a lot of things, and worked it out. I mean, there was a time, well, like when you first met me, when I wouldn't have wanted this." He smiled a weak smile. "But that feels like it was a long time ago, and he's really seemed like he's changed. No, that's not fair; I know he has." He paused, and drew in a long breath. "I mean, I'm happy, but, wow!"

Kurt watched his boyfriend ramble, knowing that when he was like this he was at his most unguarded, thinking out loud, and sharing his thoughts with him freely. "And?"

Blaine looked ahead, and grinned a big goofy grin. "And, the baby! I mean, I had no idea! Oh my God!" He chuckled, and looked back at Kurt. "I mean, I'd given up on the wanting-a-baby-brother thing a long time ago." His eyes sought Kurt's now, as they suddenly looked more serious. "But, I mean, they didn't look worried at all about this. I mean, shouldn't they be? I mean, mom's not that young, you know -"

"Blaine." Kurt put a finger to his boyfriend's lips, and made a shushing noise. "She's 43, you told me that. But she looks younger than that, and she's healthy. Women do this all the time nowadays -"

"But Kurt, she isn't some celebrity or something. She's my mom. And, isn't it dangerous? Why isn't anyone else worried about this?" he wondered. "I mean, I didn't want to say so, in there, but ..."

Kurt watched as Blaine's eyes filled with sudden, unshed tears. "She's my mom, Kurt. And I can't help but worry."

Kurt gathered him into a tight hug, and smoothed out wrinkles in the back of his shirt, and murmured softly into his ear, "I know. I thought I saw that. But your father knows this too, and I'm sure he'll get the best care for her." He heard the sniffle that told him that Blaine had indeed shed a few tears, and held him closer, waiting for him to relax.

"Thanks. I guess I just needed to say it. You understand, right?" And Blaine leaned back, to study Kurt's eyes.

"I think I do. But you don't want to stress her out, okay? I think that's not good for her," and Blaine nodded his agreement. He leaned forward again to share a gentle kiss, that Blaine leaned into and lost himself in. Minutes later, Kurt broke away, and held Blaine's hands in his own. "You know you can call me, absolutely any time, day or night, right?"

"I do. Thank you."

"No need to thank me, I'm happy to be there for you whenever you need me." His face squinched into a delighted smile. "I'm so glad they let me be there when you found out!"

Blaine laughed. "As if I could keep this from you. Not a chance!"

Kurt looked like he was trying to remember something, and turned to Blaine, who was getting ready to start the car to take him home. "Why the heck was Cooper talking about pajamas?"

Blaine had laughed and managed to distract Kurt, and hoped maybe he'd forgotten all about Cooper's comment.

He walked to his locker, trying to maintain a blank facade, when he heard Kurt himself behind him. "Hey you!"

He turned around and smiled broadly at his beautiful boyfriend. "Hey. Late night last night. You okay?"

He had to admit Kurt looked better than okay, as usual: perfectly coiffed hair, amazing outfit (though Blaine did know for a fact that Kurt sometimes plotted these a few days in advance), and right now, an arched brow as he looked him over.

He waved away Blaine's question, then ruined the effect with a huge yawn, causing them both to giggle. Then Kurt trained a softened version of his icy glare on Blaine. "And to what do we owe this particular fashion statement?"

Oh. Blaine looked down, and gave a wry smile in return. "Laundry issues? I mean, Kurt, when we went shopping a while back, we didn't get that many pieces -"

"I've been a bad boyfriend," Kurt said sadly.

"Kurt! No! I just mean, I haven't gotten out to get any more clothes, and these were clean. What?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Practically head to toe badboy black outfit -"

"I'm wearing a purple tee shirt -"

"Don't interrupt. Not that you don't rock this … look, if anyone could," and Kurt eyed the black jacket with the Hot Topic jeans that had way too many pointless zippers and snaps, and... Kurt sighed, thinking, _just no. There's no saving these_. "If you didn't have a game tonight we'd be going right after glee -"

"But Kurrrt -"

He held up a slim finger. "But it can wait until tomorrow." He narrowed his eyes, waiting for Blaine to nod his agreement. Kurt smirked, "and as to your, ahem! Nightwear, Cooper took my cell phone number the first day we met -"

"No!" Blaine looked in horror as Kurt turned on his phone.

"And he sent me this," Kurt showed him the picture, the most recent one he had, "and, well," he grinned evilly, "you know of course, that this means war," he said in his best Bugs Bunny voice. "I'm thinking while we're out, we can plot revenge!"

"I love the way your foul little mind works," Blaine intoned.

"Aladdin? Really, Blaine," Kurt teased. "So, Saturday, wide open, right?"

"Um, I do have to move, you know," Blaine reminded him.

"I'm going to have to find a way to make it work."

Blaine grinned. "But for now you can just enjoy the view. You know you love the badboy look on me!"

Kurt snorted, but had to agree that he sort of did. "Fine. But not those slacks. Those are … just no. No redeeming them. We're not even giving them to the poor."

* * *

Dave checked the forecast again, and closed his computer, happy with the result: the weather this afternoon would continue to be a little breezy, but otherwise on the mild side for November.

* * *

Christine stretched lazily, noticing the sun coming in through the big window. In her husband's house. No, _their_ house, she corrected herself. She'd felt Michael leave some time ago, and he had whispered to her to stay put, he'd see her later. She had to admit the sleep had felt good: it had been late when they finally got to bed, and the doctor had indeed told her to take it easy over the weekend, start on prenatal vitamins, and get hydrated. Getting up, she felt the familiar queasiness, and rushed to the bathroom.

"Morning, beautiful!" Michael greeted her cheerily, from where he was set up in the alcove off of the kitchen, with a clear view of the stairs. She saw the expected laptop, piles of papers and folders, his pencils and pens, and of course coffee. He was dressed for the office, but clearly had been working where he was for a while.

"Silly boy. Need new glasses already?" she teased. She walked over to him, and kissed him on the top of his head, standing on her tiptoes behind him, and looking over his shoulder.

He turned around, and smiled at her; hair mussed, wearing his old Buckeyes tee shirt, he shook his head and recited:

_Come live with me and be my love_

_ And we will all the pleasures prove_

"You know, that's a lovely poem and all, but in the end the girl kind of turns him down." She smirked at him, "though you do make a very fetching shepherd. And I think last night we did kind of explore lots of pleasures," she purred, as he moved his chair back, and she climbed onto his lap. "And I did already commit to 'come live with you and be your love'." She looked to the table in front of them. "What's all this?"

He chuckled, balancing her on his lap in the wheeled office chair. "Well, sleepyhead, I've already been to the office, had a meeting, and assembled my work, to continue it here for the rest of the day. I have a pregnant wife to spoil, you know," he confided, leaning forward to rub noses with her. "Hungry?"

She couldn't help but smile, or hide the idea that she loved it that he would be here for her all day. "Sort of?"

"Okay," he said, "let's see what looks good for breakfast, my love."

* * *

Sebastian caught up with Thad as they were leaving the Saturday brunch performance they'd just finished for the Dalton Trustees. "Hey, Thad, mind if borrow your old lacrosse stick?"

Thad shrugged. Sebastian had top notch equipment, and a spare. "Sure. You mean my old Nike? It's not that great, but -"

"No, the STX one is fine." Sebastian smiled at his roommate.

"Um, Sebastian, it's kind of seen better days," Thad said, wondering who at Dalton would want to touch it. He didn't know why he even kept it around, really.

"It's fine. I want to borrow it, for Dave. He's doing doggie day care for his uncle, and bringing them to some dog-friendly park. I figured we could play catch. Please?"

Thad laughed. "Whatever. Try not to feed it to the dogs, okay? It would be nice to get it back. It was my first stick."

"Got it. Thanks." And Sebastian sprinted off to their room. Thad rolled his eyes, not intending to follow suit at all. Sebastian was one of the fastest runners on the team, and he knew his roommate could run quite a while before bothering to break into a sweat, which, he also remembered, he wasn't slow to tease his sweatier teammates about.

* * *

Sebastian drove towards Lima, checking his GPS to reach Uncle Marty's house. There it was, mailbox number 4470 on State Road 13. He wondered how many Jags made it down this stretch of unpaved road in the middle of nowhere, and was mildly surprised it was still technically in Lima. As he expected, Dave was already there, waiting for him in his car.

"It's so cool that you came," Dave smiled broadly. "I mean, doggie daycare isn't much of a draw. Not even for me, and I kind of like these miserable canines."

Sebastian returned his smile and arched an eyebrow. "Can't be worse than some of the company we've kept at Scandals. Though I'm dressed for it," he gestured to his casual outfit proudly, wearing simple jeans, a Dalton rugby shirt and fleece-lined hoodie, "in case they can't keep their paws off me."

Dave rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm quite sure you're irresistible to them too. Goon. You said you had a surprise?"

"I do indeed," and Sebastian fished the two old lacrosse sticks, and canvas bag full of old balls. "What do you think?"

"I think you're inviting death if you want to play keep-away from these guys, but it should be fun. If you get tackled, don't go crying to me."

"Ooh, bring it," Sebastian drawled. He added nervously, "You said they don't bite or anything, right?"

"Not much," Dave teased. "No, except for maybe one, who nips now and then. I'll tell her to behave."

"Okay, let's get introduced," he answered, looking a bit nervous.

Dave got his uncle's keys out, and they heard the dogs well before they got to the front door. "Honey, I'm home," Dave called, and was greeted by enthusiastic barks and howls and yips. Sebastian stepped in behind him, and his eyes widened as the dogs noticed him.

"Down. Down, all of you. Nice," Dave commanded. "Sit. Good boy, Johnathan," he said to a beautiful, large white dog Sebastian thought he recognized as a husky. The dog cocked his head to the side, and opened his mouth, looking like he was giving a goofy smile. "This is Johnathan." He turned to a mountain of a dog on his other side. "And this is Bodo. Come here, girl," and Sebastian watched as a huge shaggy brown, black, and white dog inched closer to Dave. "Say hello to our guest," Dave commanded the dogs, and Bodo gave a friendly woof and raised a paw for him to shake, and Johnathan gave a woof that sounded a bit more like a yodel and nudged Sebastian's leg.

"I can see why your dad insisted your mom isn't up to the job. These two look like quite a handful."

"You have no idea," Dave said wearily. "You haven't even met the ringleader."

Sebastian looked around him, surprised. "Where's the other one hiding?"

Yip! He heard a high pitched bark, and swore it sounded indignant, coming from right behind Dave's leg.

"Come on out to play," Dave cajoled, and Sebastian burst out laughing as a tiny dog emerged from behind where Dave was crouching to pet behind the husky's ear. "This little fireball here is Winky," and he watched as the tiny dog proudly paraded in front of Dave before settling in front of him, and looking up at Sebastian expectantly.

"Your aunt and uncle have, um, a diverse taste in dogs," Sebastian commented. "That one I recognize," he said, pointing at Johnathan, "but what on earth is this giant beast, and this, um, shall we say, ball of fur?"

"Well, this giant beast, as you put it, is a Bernese Mountain Dog. Her name comes from some place my aunt and uncle visited when they backpacked in Norway. They had this birch forest there with orchids in bloom, and that's where proposed, the town of Bodo. Winky -"

"Like the house elf in Harry Potter?"

"Yes," Dave continued, "I think; though you never know with my relatives, she's a Yorkshire terrier."

"Really?" Sebastian squatted down, showed her his fingers, and reached to pet her when she got done sniffing. "Doesn't look familiar."

Dave grinned at the tiny dog. "She's got a 'puppy cut' so her hair isn't all long and frou frou. I think she thinks it makes her look all badass," he chuckled.

Sebastian looked up to grin at Dave, who was lost in lavishing affection on the dogs he'd protested had ruined his plans. Clearly, he adored them. _His bark is worse than his bite_, he thought, deciding not to say it out loud.

Minutes later, unloaded from Uncle Marty's van, Dave held the eager dogs on their leashes, managing the bigger ones without trouble, though Winky seemed to be on a mission to tangle her leash up in his legs.

"Want some help with that one?" He asked, suppressing a giggle as Dave tried to disentangle himself.

"Love it," Dave handed her leash over. Sebastian had already joked that it was black leather with little rhinestones, like a biker chick accessory.

"C'mere, Winky," he called and she joined him, yapping at him impatiently.

"Ignore that request," Dave sighed wearily.

"What request?"

"Her Highness wants to be carried to the field."

Sebastian smirked. "Like Lady Gaga?" He laughed at Dave's eye roll. "Well, little lady," he addressed the dog, "I don't have an egg, though I think I could find one that would fit you." He held out his arm as he squatted and she nuzzled into his side. Sebastian picked up the sticks, and Dave grabbed the bag of balls.

"Sucker," Dave snickered.

The big dogs became very enthusiastic once they got to the open field where they could be off leash. It was chilly but bright out, and theirs were the only dogs there. When Sebastian fished a couple of balls out of the bag, Johnathan started scampering around wildly, running around them in crazy circles. Bodo woofed happily, her plumed tail wagging steadily. Winky kept herself busy running around Dave's feet, and he cursed, trying not to step on her as he accepted a ball.

"I was thinking we could just play some catch, let the dogs play too if they want," Sebastian said. "These are old practice balls."

"Good thing," Dave agreed. "Johnathan here is a serial ball mauler. Let's play!"

They separated, and the big dogs seemed to figure out the game right away, as Sebastian threw some balls just for them, and some at Dave. Winky mostly orbited around Dave, but occasionally went back and ran circles around Sebastian's feet. After a while the boys separated, as Dave gained proficiency with the lacrosse stick.

Dave threw a ball wild, deciding he enjoyed seeing Sebastian stoop to retrieve it, or better yet turn around. Bodo gave chase, and played with Sebastian, who eventually commanded her to drop it, just as he had seen Dave do.

"Let's try for a bit more challenge," Sebastian shouted, and backed up. The boys drifter farther and farther apart as Dave improved more, and Winky grew tired of running between them. She yipped while the boys played catch, still throwing for the dogs between catches, and Bodo and Johnathan stopped what they were doing, seeming to listen to her. Bodo returned to Sebastian, and Johnathan clung close to Dave. When the next ball was thrown, the white dog leapt high in the air caught it, and Dave had to chase him a bit to make him give it up.

Dave threw to Sebastian, and Bodo showed that she too, could jump high and intercept it, and she ran towards the middle of the boys, and planted her forelegs on the ground, butt in the air as she barked a playful bark, leaving her ball between her paws. "Bodo, c'mon, give it back. Drop it!" He smiled; the dog clearly wanted to play, and he chased her (she seemed surprised by how fast he was, when he caught up to her). "I don't know why I want a drooled on, disgusting ball, but give it back," he laughed. She turned around, and planted her front legs on his chest, knocking him over with a running start.

Sebastian lay on the ground, a little shocked, wind temporarily knocked from him. Bodo bonked him with her nose, then slobbered on his face, earning her a smirk and a push away. Dave caught up, and dropped down to check him out, circled by Johnathan. "'Bas? You okay?" Then Johnathan pushed him off balance, and he landed, sprawled on top of Sebastian, who got his breath back, and started to laugh, surrounded now by all three dogs; Bodo was regally sitting tall, as though on display at a show, Johnathan kept up with circling them, and Winky climbed all over Sebastian's body before he tried to sit up.

Both boys had rosy cheeks and noses from being out in the cold. "How about we call it a day," Dave proposed.

"Works for me. I can only take so many tackles. You may have to make it up to me, Growly."

Dave smiled at the nickname, and wondered what he had in mind. He knew that Sebastian was more than just a friend to him, that hell, not only was he hot, but Dave just loved spending time with him, and missed him whenever they couldn't see each other on weekends. That, and his texts, which tended to pop up at random times, gave him more happiness than he had ever admitted to Seb. He looked at him, as he rough housed a little with the dogs, and admitted that what he'd confessed when drunk at Scandals was true, he really was attracted to this man, who had fast become his best friend as well. Shit.

Sebastian laughed as the big dogs responded to his physical play, and then he heard Winky's cheerful yips, right at his ankle, and bent down to pet her. "Sorry, girl, did we leave you out?"

She yipped again, and put a tiny paw on his hand, and looked into his eyes.

"You're not gonna fall for that again, are you," Dave teased. "She's got a memory like a trap, that one does."

"Don't listen to him," Sebastian cooed, scooping up the tiny dog, who burrowed this time into his fleece-lined hoodie. "She's cold," he made a comedic frown, and zipped her in so only her head and one paw was showing. "Poor baby, I'll warm you up."

Dave stared at him, wondering where this all came from: Sebastian was adorable, spoiling the opportunistic little Yorkie, who was now looking at him worshipfully. And he noticed that he was experiencing … jealousy? Of a tiny, spoiled dog?

"'Bastian!" He threw the bag of balls at him, and he caught it with the hand not cradling the dog. Dave rounded up the leashes, and got the big dogs secured. They seemed to sense the fun was over, but obeyed. Except Bodo chewed thoughtfully on one of the lacrosse sticks.

"Bodo," Dave sighed, and signaled for her to drop it.

The quick ride back was quiet, and Winky stayed tucked in Sebastian's hoodie, while the Warbler seemed lost in thought. He looked over at Dave, and reflected that he'd had more fun than he would have imagined months ago. He noticed Dave's pink cheeks, and when Dave glanced his way, they shared a smile, but stayed quiet until they got back to Uncle Marty's house.

Once back in, leashes stowed, dog treats dispensed, Dave turned to Sebastian. "Hot chocolate?"

"With the tiny, fake dehydrated marshmallows?" Sebastian asked in a teasing tone.

"Only the best," Dave joked back. "Aunt Sandra left us some cupcakes too. Do you want to do that before or after we finish up with the pups?"

Sebastian looked puzzled. "What more could there be to do with them?"

Dave laughed. "Bodo and Johnathan shed like crazy in the fall. And then Winky gets jealous if she doesn't get brushed too."

"Naturally," Sebastian drawled, and patted his hand to his thigh to call her over, which she promptly did. "Little one just wants what she has coming to her," he crooned.

Dave stared at them. No question, he thought Seb was adorable, and that wasn't just the spoiling of the little dog talking. He got up abruptly to put the kettle on. "I'll put the water on; maybe we'll brush first, cupcakes later." Sebastian watched his retreating form, stripped down to his tee shirt in the warm house.

He found himself unable to look away, and when Dave turned around, their eyes met. Dave looked like he wanted to ask something, then turned away, going after the brushes. Sebastian got up to follow him; he needed to be able to talk to Dave like before, and felt that the temperature had changed; how did every look they shared (or stole) suddenly feel important?

"Growly." His tone was patient, waiting for him to turn around. "Talk to me."

**A/N: Oh, the poem Michael recites part of to Christine is Christopher Marlowe's _A Passionate Shepherd to His Love_.**

**All right, time to come clean: I chatted with a few readers. Three, actually, who are represented here by their canine avatars. You know exactly who you are. My original story arc for Sebastian and Dave did have them coming together, but you wouldn't have seen it until the epilogue, as it would happen a few years in the future. However … these three readers all agreed: they wanted their Sebofsky _now_, please, and felt the rest of the readers probably wouldn't be opposed. So, you see the beginnings here, with Dave's canine cousins (sort of) nudging him towards Sebastian, sometimes literally.**

**So, now Cooper also knows of the big news for the Anderparents, and we've got one more revelation to complete...**

**I do love hearing from you, long or short. I feel like my in-box is the friendliest place around when I see your reviews, and I love saying hi back. Of course, any thoughts, questions, whatever, are welcome: sometimes I can answer a question, sometimes I'll let you know if the answer is coming. I'm glad you're reading, if you've made it this far, dear friends.**


	78. Chapter 78, Revelations, part four

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. And now, for Revelations, part four (part four in the trilogy?)**

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … Sebastian's with Dave, doing doggie day care for his Uncle Marty and Aunt Sandra, and it sounds like something's on Dave's mind... It's Saturday, which is moving day again for Blaine, but Kurt has other plans. Did anyone remember that it's Michael's birthday? So, that's what you missed!]_

_**From last chapter:**_

_He found himself unable to look away, and when Dave turned around, their eyes met. Dave looked like he wanted to ask something, then turned away, going after the brushes. Sebastian got up to follow him; he needed to be able to talk to Dave like before, and felt that the temperature had changed; how did every look they shared (or stole) suddenly feel important?_

"_Growly." His tone was patient, waiting for him to turn around. "Talk to me."_

Dave chewed his lower lip, busying himself with putting on the tea kettle. He'd imagined talking to Sebastian, but even in his imagination he'd never been able to get it right so far. They'd had so much fun, Sebastian had driven all the way here to do _what_? Help him with his Uncle's dogs? He'd even brought old lacrosse sticks and balls, so they'd have something fun to do with them that they hadn't ever done at the park. And he had to admit it to himself: he lived for Seb's snarky texts, showing up unexpectantly, peppered like … like what, exactly? To him, it felt like they were nudges, Seb's special way of making him laugh, or sharing some absurd observation, and often they came one more time each day, around bedtime. He texted Seb too, but he didn't know if the other boy's heart raced when his phone vibrated with a new text, the way his did.

And being in physical proximity to him? He hated it, every time it ended. He got the feeling 'Bastian felt that way too. No one was exactly forcing him to keep coming down here, or keep texting him, or any of it. And he'd seen that while Sebastian hadn't bonded to the Warblers the way Blaine had, they clearly liked him, and he had a respected place with them.

And then there'd been the text he got from Pat, Toby's grandson. _That_ he hadn't told Seb about. Pat, like other staff children's boys, was offered a spot at Dalton, very heavily discounted, and he was a day student. Pat had been impressed with Dave's appreciation of the work that was Toby's legacy: the beautiful grounds of Dalton Academy. He enjoyed talking to him the day they met, but had answered only out of common courtesy.

"Growly", and Dave startled, as his voice was right there, next to his ear. "Patience isn't my thing." And he felt Sebastian's hands on him, turning him around.

Dave met Sebastian's eyes. "'Bas?"

Sebastian frowned, hearing the uncertain tone, seeing that Dave really did look troubled. "C'mon, let's go sit," he suggested, and led him back to the couch. Bodo leaned into his leg almost immediately, and Johnathan bookended Dave on the other side. Sebastian reflected that he would have said something snarky about this, but this was not the moment for that. He turned to face Dave, and angled his body better to face him as Winky daintily came up and curled up on his left foot. Tucking his right foot under his leg, he reached for the other boy's hands. "Something's bothering you. Out with it."

Dave drew his lips together tightly, narrowed his eyes, and looked straight forward, before letting out a breathy sigh. Unconsciously mirroring Sebastian's pose, he turned towards him, finally. "I feel like you're the only person who really knows me," and Sebastian nodded his head encouragingly. "Considering how we met," and they both smirked and let out a silent chuckle, "who would have thought you'd be my best friend by now? I mean, look at us. You drove all the way here, and … it's just … I feel stupid." Dave suddenly sounded deflated.

Sebastian let the silence hang for a moment, but reaching his left hand over to lift Dave's chin, he broke it. "Growly," he said softly, "I've had so much fun here, and considering how rated G this all has been, who'd believe it?" He grinned, happy that Dave joined him in his smile. "Hell, I'll be honest; I was looking forward to this from the day I heard about it!" Bodo stirred; she'd fallen asleep against his left leg, and she lifted her head and tilted it to the side to look at him. He reached down and scratched behind her ears, and she quickly settled into relaxing again. "Hell," he continued, in a much softer tone, "it's not like I'm all that crazy about dogs. No offense intended," he added looking down at Winky, before turning to Dave again. "I even brought _toys_ … again, _G-rated_. A _blow_ my reputation may never recover from," he smirked, waggling his eyebrows playfully.

"You're insufferable," Dave shot back, in his best Daffy Duck impression, that evidently landed, as they both giggled. He straightened up, and reached over to place his hands on Sebastian's thigh. "You really are, though. I mean -" his voice trailed off, and he looked away again, clearly hesitant. Sebastian watched him, trying to give him time, then decided he needed encouragement, and he squeezed Dave's leg back.

"Come back to me, Bear Cub," he commanded. Clearing his throat, he went on. "Whatever it is, we need to talk about it. You think I'm the only one who gets you, right? Did you stop to think how _I_ feel?"

Dave looked up, and met his gaze again. "Growly, no one at Dalton, hell, no one in this fucking _state_ knows about Henri. I have friends as Dalton, sure, but I don't talk about things with them. The way I do with you."

Dave leaned back, and his face betrayed surprise. "Oh."

"So, c'mon. It's kind of our thing, the no-bullshit thing." He looked at him squarely, and not a trace of his usual playfulness or sarcasm was evident. "I'm good with it, whatever it is. I swear it."

"Okay." Dave took a deep breath, and smiled a gentle smile at him. "'Bas, what if you're more than that to me? I mean, not that being besties isn't great, because it is. But... okay, I'll be honest here. I really am into you. Not just, I wanna-get-in-your-pants into you," he smiled as Sebastian did a mock bow from his seated position, "I mean, more than that." He looked at him directly. "I want to be with you. I wonder what it would be like to kiss you, to hold you, to ..." his voice trailed off, "to be with you. I think about you all the time, and it feels like forever, in between times when I can't see you for days." Dave reached over to gather Sebastian's hands in his, and intertwined their fingers. He allowed himself to caress his hands, as he looked hopefully into his eyes.

Sebastian looked at him in shock for a moment, then closed his eyes and wondered how in hell something like that could feel so hot. He opened his eyes and leaned forward, closing the tiny distance between them, and Dave folded him into his arms. Sebastian leaned further in, until he was lost in the embrace, feeling Dave's face curled into his neck, his warm breath tickling the hairs there in the most delicious way. He inched even closer in, feeling the answering tightening of Dave's arms around him, his eyes closed, surrendering to the feeling this embrace caused. A part of his mind wondered if this felt even a fraction as good for Dave as it did for him, and he didn't speak, as he gave himself over to the feeling of being held, being loved, and cherished. It felt magical; it felt like home, in a way he'd never experienced, and he planted a tentative kiss to the firmly muscled neck and shoulder there, ending right below his ear.

They were interrupted by the shrill sound of the tea kettle. "I'd say it's getting hot in here, but that would be possibly the most cliché thing imaginable right now," Sebastian said, his familiar, teasing tone back.

"I'd say screw the damned tea pot, but I don't want to burn my uncle's house down," Dave sighed, getting up to turn it off.

"Touche. Well played, sir," he shot back, waiting for Dave to come back, and suddenly irritable at the cold feeling his absence gave.

Dave was back very quickly. "Well played?" He gave a sideways smile. "Not playing here."

"Dave. Since you brought it up, I mean, why we met in the first place..."

"Yeah?" Dave's face betrayed that he was clearly confused by this turn of the conversation.

Sebastian smirked and stared at the fireplace opposite them. "Though I'm more suited to Mercutio than Juliet," and he arched an eyebrow as he watched Dave get even more confused. "Like in Romeo and Juliet? All everyone remembers is those two, but at the beginning of the play Romeo's falling all over himself, pining over the fair Rosaline, and Mercutio gives him crap and talks him out of it. So, what I'm trying to say, Growly, is that we met because you were gaga over another guy."

Dave sat way back, not expecting this, to judge by his expression, and Sebastian watched him as he seemed to gather his thoughts. "Um, okay... I think I get it, but you've got to know, this is totally different."

"Okay. Go." Sebastian's face betrayed nothing, as he waited for him to speak again.

"'Bas. That wasn't at all like what we have. I mean, yes, I did crush on Kurt," he flushed as he admitted this. "But that's all it was. I mean, it's complicated! There he was, I have no idea how, out and proud and nothing kept him down or made him fade into the woodwork. Far from it! I wished I could be that cocky, but I saw what happened to him, what people said to him, and I was terrified. Would someone figure it out? How long could I get away with not scoring with the girls? Would the other guys ever notice that I didn't give a shit about tits?" That broke the tension a little, and they both chuckled. "Oh, the answer to that: evidently not. But there he was: proud of being who he was, wearing skin tight pants, and I was scared to death someone would catch me noticing that. So, I finally tried to make a move, but I really screwed it up -"

"Yeah, I kind of have to agree with you there."

Dave looked at him with a look of pure pleading. "He was there. He was hot. And he was _gay_. Not like he had any competition that I knew of. But, I don't feel like that anymore. I haven't in a long time." He exhaled, and looked at the other boy with a soft look, full of longing. "I get it now, it was a crush. I hadn't ever had one before, I didn't know what hit me. But that's all it was, I see that now." He reached over, repeating his action from before, to hold Sebastian's hands in his own. "What I feel for you, it's not the same at all."

Sebastian looked at him, and squeezed his hands back. "Growly, I believe you. I want you to hold that thought. There's something I want to show you, but I have to go to my car to get it."

* * *

_The night before..._

Blaine was surprised his mother was still awake when he got home late Friday night. It felt odd, coming home to this house, his father's house. He did like it; it was roomy, comfortable, and elegant in its simplicity. Not like the grand house in Westerville, but he thought he could grow to really love it. He walked over to greet her, as she sat curled up on the big sectional in the living room, soon joined by his father.

"Hey, mom, dad. I'm glad I didn't wake you," and he leaned down to kiss her cheek in greeting.

"Fun night?" Michael asked, a smile playing on his lips.

"Um, yeah," Blaine answered automatically, pinking up slightly as his parents turned to share a smile.

"Well, good. We need to talk plans for tomorrow," Michael said after a moment.

"Of course," Blaine nodded agreement. He had figured as much, since they would be moving, and Kurt had volunteered to help. Finn had offered to help too, which Blaine had accepted. They hadn't lived there long, and didn't really have that much stuff there, since a lot of their things were still in the Westerville house, and the house Christine had rented had been on the small side.

Seeing the conspiratorial grin his parents shared, Blaine furrowed his brows in confusion. "Am I missing something?"

"Well, go to your room, son, then take a look downstairs, then we'll talk after," Michael said.

"Okay," Blaine answered. On reaching his room, he noted the boxes stacked neatly in a corner. He opened the closet, and found his clothes from his mother's house hanging there, but still with plenty of space left unclaimed. Breaking into a smile, he sprinted downstairs, then down to the basement, where there were lots more boxes, and some of the furniture from the other house. A large empty area was set aside, and he found his workout equipment, as well as his knife throwing practice gear and his other show supplies. Racing up the stairs, he burst into the living room. "But … how? When did this...?"

Michael laughed, enjoying himself immensely. "Blaine, it's almost all done. That's what moving companies are for, and it wasn't like you two had a huge amount of stuff there. Besides," and he gathered his wife in closer, kissing her hair, "is that really how I want to spend my Saturday?"

"Or your birthday," Christine added. "There's not much to move, but if you handle it tomorrow morning, we can talk about the rest of the day."

"Sure," Blaine grinned.

"I'm afraid surprising your dad isn't going to happen, but tomorrow we're going to have a family birthday party, starting around five."

"You can bring Kurt," Michael looked at his son, enjoying the happiness he saw there.

"Thanks, dad!"

"Now," Christine continued, with a look of mock sternness at her husband, "someone has to go make themselves busy so I can talk to Blaine."

"Fine. I can take a hint," he joked. "I'll just go put on some tea," and he walked to the kitchen.

"Blaine, I do have some things worked out." She patted the place beside her, and Blaine settled in next to her. "For one, I arranged for Cooper to fly out – it's a surprise. I'm going to have you go get him in Dayton."

"This is great!" Blaine bounced with enthusiasm. "What time?"

"His flight's in at three. I'm also going to have you pick up a few things for your dad's birthday, if you don't mind shopping for me at the mall in Dayton." She handed him a list.

"Okay, this looks do-able. I can call you if I need to make decisions, so that should work."

She squeezed his shoulder. "Good, I'm glad you can do it. Maybe Kurt will help you shop."

"Is the Pope Catholic?"

"I'll take that as a 'yes'. You better tell Kurt your plans have changed; I'm thinking he would dress differently to shop in Dayton as opposed to helping move."

"I'm going to tell him you said that." Blaine winked. "Of course, he already loves you, but you're so right. Let's see... shopping, lunch out, picking up Coop, birthday party... What are we doing about food?"

"I'm not a total invalid, you know, and I'm already feeling a bit better." She held up a hand to stop him before he could speak. "Your father is making sure I'm following doctor's orders, have no fear. We'll have my lasagne," Blaine nodded happily, loving her lasagne as much as his father did, "and simple stuff to go with it, some good bread, salad, that kind of thing."

"Dessert?" he asked.

"Auntie Mimi's on it; they're all coming over too, and she's making a couple of graham cracker cakes. I can read you like a book, you know. I knew that's what you were asking about."

"Well, yeah," he admitted. "Do you want me to pick up an ice cream cake too on the way home?"

They worked out the rest of the details for the next day quickly. Blaine accepted his mint tea and started texting Kurt, then Cooper. This would indeed be a fun weekend.

**A/N: So sorry for the long delay! I plead the usual: work, family, and a major holiday (Happy Easter to all of you!). Work has been nuttier and more insane than usual (I won't bore you with that). **

**So, I hope you liked the front end of this chapter (well, I hope you liked all of it, but I think the front end is more anticipate). Guesses as to what Sebastian's up to? I do answer reviews, though I probably won't spoil this for you (ironic: Easter, and me not offering an Easter egg. I know.). I'll try to update sooner this time – the story is all there (points to cranium), just need _time_ (having a Bilbo Baggins moment there).**

**I love to hear from you, and will gladly answer you if you review or send me a message. Peace out!**


	79. Chapter 79, Revelations, part five

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. And now, for Revelations, part five... **

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … Sebastian came to Lima bearing toys for a doggie playdate, and got more than he bargained for – Dave coming right out and saying he wants to go beyond the friend zone... Sebastian listened and all, and told Dave he had to go get something from his car …? Meanwhile, Blaine's day isn't going to be all moving boxes and furniture after all, though it will involve shopping with Kurt. Is that easier? We'll get back to you on that. Meanwhile, I think Mimi's forgiven Michael, as she is bringing the sacred Cakes to his birthday party. So, that's what you missed!]_

Sebastian stood out in the cold yard, hurrying towards his car. He unlocked it, snatched the envelope out of the messenger bag on the back seat, and stuffed it in his jacket, rubbing his hands against the rapidly chilling air. He smiled as he closed the door and headed to the house again, but stopped when he was almost there.

Oh, God, he thought, leaning against the gate post. What was I thinking? This is totally the wrong way to do this._ Shit! _Growly had just bared his soul, his desires, and held him in one of those absolutely addictive hugs he was sure were his alone. He scowled at the envelope, and steeled himself. I will make this work. He looked behind him once more, before turning to open the door again. He'll get it. Eventually. I hope. I am an idiot.

"You came back," Dave smiled, placing two steaming mugs on the side table. He looked up, his face troubled. "'Bas, I didn't make you uncomfortable -"

"Growly." His voice sounded strained, even to him, and Dave's eyes were surprised, meeting his. Sebastian had never looked more naked as he took a step to stand close to him. "Did I look in any way _uncomfortable_ when you were holding me just then? No, don't answer," and he pulled them back to their former positions, sitting on the couch. He chewed his lip, and Dave thought, he sure does look uncomfortable _right now_, but he waited.

Sebastian looked at him, looking so earnest, as if being able to say what he needed to was the most important thing in his world. "I believe you, you know. I _know_, but it was good to hear you say it, that you're over your crush. Compared to me, your baggage is a light carry-on, next to my huge suitcase. Here's the thing: um, how do I tell you this?"

Dave laughed softly, watching his flustered friend. "Breathe," he advised, and moved forward to hold him again, this time caressing his back, and smiling when he felt him melt into his arms. "Anything that comes after you telling me you were good with hearing how I feel about you has _got_ to be worth hearing." Sebastian nodded and nudged himself in deeper, burrowing into Dave's firm hold, and finding his potential freak-out feel like it might vanish. He reluctantly broke away, to talk face to face again.

Dave continued. "Just tell me. Don't worry about making it perfect or anything. It's all right." His eyes, he hoped, said what he didn't dare to say yet: that he had in fact fallen for him, and was hopeful now that maybe 'Bas felt something similar.

"Okay," Sebastian smiled his usual smile. "It seemed like a great idea, a few minutes ago, but I realized coming in, that you could take this the wrong way. So, hear me out." Dave nodded, listening quietly. "I haven't, um, hooked up, for a few weeks now," he admitted. "I know to some people that wouldn't sound like a big thing, but … well -"

"Sebastian. I'm only going to interrupt you to tell you, I get that. I never judged you, remember." He waited for the nod and answering smile. "That's all. Sorry I barged in."

Sebastian's looked as his feet, shook his head. "No, I'm glad you did, it makes this easier." He looked up, meeting Dave's open gaze. "It's not like I suddenly lost my touch or anything," he smirked, "it's just that... well, I did go dancing a few times, and had a few beers, but my heart wasn't in it. I didn't want random guys, even the cute ones; I'd just go home after a while, wondering what the hell that was all about. Then, a couple of weeks ago, after you got all drunk and drippy," he teased, "I realized that it killed me, to see you hurt like that. I started to notice, Growly, that you're hot," he put a hand up to stop him from countering him, "no, you really are. But, more than that, you get me, and you don't judge me, and well... " he grinned at him, "I realized I have so much fun with you." He reached over and held Dave's hands in his. "I started texting you more because I _missed_ you; and talking to you that way every day, then a couple of times a day, made me feel like you could be there, share my thoughts without holding back." His voice dropped, and he looked with pleading as he said slowly, "and I realized I wanted you for more than just that. But I'm scared, too."

"How is that possible?" Dave wondered. "You're like, the cockiest guy I know! And you knew I thought you were – are – hot. What could you possibly be scared of?"

"Growlybear, this is so much scarier than a hookup. I don't know how to hold back, so with just playing around with other guys – before – I was very clear: yes to the sex, but no relationship and no promise of one: honesty for both me and whoever" (he cringed at this), "but aside from flirting with physical danger, my heart was completely safe." He paused, and looked searchingly over at Dave. "Does this make sense?"

Dave smiled a little, thinking of something else altogether. Growlybear... cute. I like it. He shook himself out of his reverie, as Seb was waiting for an answer. "Of course it does." His brow furrowed, as he remembered. "'Bastian, you went outside for something."

He smirked, "I did, but now I'm thinking it's kind of … backwards. Like I can't get the order of anything right -"

"Don't worry about it. Just tell me. And tell me the rest of it, so I understand, any way you want. It's okay."

"Fine." Sebastian took the envelope out of his hoodie and handed it over to Dave. "Read it."

Dave looked worried but accepted it, unfolding the plain paper as he took it out of its envelope. It was a notification of lab results, he could see that, with Sebastian's name on it. He looked up at him. "You'll have to explain. Sorry. I don't get it..."

"Not surprised." His tone was dry. "All right, in gay culture, when you want to get serious, settle down with one guy, you get yourself tested for all the STDs, and you give the guy your results, so he can see you cared enough to stay healthy, to get tested, to be safe for him to be with."

"Wow, 'Bastian, that _is_ moving fast -"

"That's just the thing! I don't want to have some hookup, and then pretend we're nothing for each other. I get it now, finally. I feel like … like going to that level with you – it's huge!" He pleaded for understanding with his eyes, looking bereft. "You're my best friend. And it's scary as hell and well, amazing at the same time that you want that kind of relationship with me. But that's why this is upside down. I don't want to just go fuck – God! I cannot say this right at all! I mean, I want to have that kind of sweet, starry-eyed thing, which is totally new for me, and totally terrifying. I've never experienced it, you know: Henri was never exclusive with me. So, here I am, presenting you my clean bill of health, and telling you there's been no one else since then, but," his voice dropped to a whisper, "I'm still kind of scared."

"'Bastian, you goof. Come here," Dave crooned, smiling and holding him close again. He kissed his hair, and then under his ear, and then gently turned Sebastian's head so he could give him a soft kiss on his lips, finally confident that this was what they both wanted. He pulled away almost immediately, earning a puzzled look from a somewhat dazed-looking Sebastian. "It's hard to come out, and I'm proud of you for doing it," he teased.

Now it was Sebastian's turn to be confused. "Growlybear, what the hell?"

Dave chuckled, their foreheads close together, and met his eyes with a mischievous look. "You've come out as a romantic. It's okay. Your secret is safe with me."

"Bastard," Sebastian purred back.

"_Your_ bastard," Dave corrected.

"Fine. Now, kiss me you fool," he quoted.

Dave didn't bother answering, and once again lifted Sebastian's body, bringing him close, as they shared a kiss that started slowly, lips moving against each other as they adjusted their bodies, and when Dave licked Sebastian's lips, nudging softly to gain entrance, Sebastian moaned with happiness and longing that had finally been satisfied, allowing himself to be claimed, as Dave kissed him deeply, then broke away to mark his neck, and Sebastian was amazed and pleased at how his inexperienced lover made him feel completely vulnerable and utterly safe at the same time. Too soon Dave broke away, lying down on the couch and pulling him to rest on top of him, still firmly nestled in his arms.

"I just want to hold you," Dave whispered, kissing Sebastian and pulling back to look at him, a soft smile on his face. "This feels so amazing, so right."

Sebastian murmured his agreement. He was totally turned on (and it was obvious Dave was too) but yet he felt no need to rush, and was surprised to find that he wanted to live in this moment. He sang to Dave, "I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece," and leaned forward to look at him again, hungry for that look on his face, before deciding maybe Dave could use some lessons on making out after all. He found that Growly was indeed an eager student.

**A/N: Hello! Yes, a short chapter, but I didn't want to leave you (or them) hanging. Honestly, it would have been the end of the previous chapter, but I ran out of time.**

**I hope you've enjoyed this, and I'd love to hear what you think. Gotta get ready for work, but I'll be in touch. Thank you all, my readers and reviewers; you make me a better writer/storyteller, and inspire me.**

"**Kiss me, you fool" has made its way into many movies, but Sebastian's inflection and delivery is right out of Gone With the Wind (a reference, by the way, that Dave _doesn't_ get, but he does sort of get it that Seb's quoting something... he just figures he can ask about it later). The song snippet is of course from Teenage Dream by Katy Perry.**


	80. Chapter 80, WNTW, and Three TalesTails

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. Dear readers, there is a special bonus at the end of this chapter that I'm excited to share with you! The title: WNTW refers to What Not To Wear, a reality fashion makeover show, and Three Tales (Tails?) refers to some great added content at the end (tail?) of this chapter. Enjoy!**

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … Sebastian came clean with Dave, in more ways than one, and it looks like they're totally on to be boyfriends (who knew doggie daycare could inspire this much romance?). But, it's a busy Saturday day for Blaine and Kurt too; it's Michael's birthday, and Blaine is helping his mom surprise his dad with picking up Cooper, as well as getting some things on her shopping list. Oh yeah, they have to stop in at his old house first. So, that's what you missed!]_

Carole fished her phone out of her purse, and was a little surprised to see it was Christine that was calling. "Hello?"

"Hi, Carole!"

She noticed that Christine sounded excited and happy, and relaxed, a smile coming to her face. "Hi, Christine. What's up this morning?"

"Well, I'm involving you in a tiny bit of plotting, if that's okay." Carole listened and swore she heard a giggle.

"I'm listening. What's the plan?"

"Kurt's going to be meeting Blaine to help with some moving stuff, and then shopping for Michael's birthday tonight."

Carole nodded. "Yes, I knew about that. The boys are eating breakfast now."

"Okay. Well, we hired a moving company, so there isn't much to do, but Blaine doesn't know that. So, Finn can sit this one out, and Kurt doesn't have to dress to move stuff; he can dress for the trip to Dayton to shop and pick up Cooper at the airport." Carole could picture Christine, who sounded energetic and excited. "If you'd tell Kurt that, and thank Finn for me, that would be great."

"I'm sure Finn will be fine with that," Carole agreed.

"Also, I know it's last minute, but if you're free tonight, we'd love to have all of you join us. You've been so welcoming, asking me to sit with you at games and all, and I'd love to have you over. Do you think you can make it?"

"I'll talk to Burt, and I'll call you a little later, if that's okay."

"Great. I hope you can make it! Thanks!"

They said their goodbyes, and Carole joined the boys in the kitchen. As she expected, Finn was happy with having his Saturday back, and Kurt looked gleeful as he thanked her and raced upstairs to change.

* * *

Kurt arrived at Blaine's old house about a minute before Blaine did. He got out of his car before Blaine got out of his, and happily bounced over to greet his boyfriend.

Blaine's face broke into a huge grin, seeing how happy Kurt looked to see him, and how absurdly fashionable he looked for a day of moving. His brow furrowed as he looked for Finn, who'd promised to help move things, though he was a little surprised, since it seemed his father had had most of it done already. "Well hello, gorgeous," he cooed, copying the immortal Barbara Streisand's inflection.

Kurt arched a brow as he did. "Well, hello to you, sweetie."

"Um, Kurt, did you bring some other outfit to move stuff in?"

"I think I'll answer that when we go inside," he answered airily, and Blaine wondered what that meant. Shrugging his shoulders, he got out his key and they stepped in.

"Place looks pretty empty," Blaine commented, then spotted a note on an old chair in the front hall. "Hey, what's this?"

_Blaine, a little surprise for you – the moving's basically done. What I want you to do is go through the rest of your clothes and see what you might have outgrown or would rather give away. For the remaining furniture, use these post-its: put a red one on things you'd like to keep (maybe for a future apartment) and green on things you don't want (those will go to Mimi's church). Have fun shopping and getting Cooper, sweetie! Love, Mom_

Kurt had read it with him, and now knew why Carole had relayed the message she did.

"Wow," Blaine breathed, and looked around him. There wasn't a ton of furniture to make decisions on, but this wasn't what he'd expected at all. Then he smiled, thinking this was perfect: here was Kurt beside him; who better to help him decide what he'd want to keep for a future apartment (that he'd want to share with him), and for better or worse, his mom had all but deputized Kurt to get busy overhauling his wardrobe.

"This is great," Kurt enthused, his eyes shining. He too was thinking of a future where furniture would be involved, but he was also excited to tackle Blaine's wardrobe.

"I dunno," Blaine teased, "what should we do first?"

"That's easy," Kurt scoffed. "Furniture first, there's not that much of it to go through, it looks like, and then," he paused for effect, "we get to play _What Not To Wear_, Lima edition. This is serious!"

Blaine groaned. "Not exactly; my closet at the new place wasn't empty, you know -"

"Too bad," Kurt pouted. "No matter," he continued crisply, "I'm sure your mom knew what she was doing."

They did indeed get through tagging the pieces of furniture scattered around quickly. It made Blaine almost dizzy with happiness, thinking of planning his future life like that, with the person beside him that would make it magical. They agreed on furniture selections easily, both of them seeming to picture a tiny apartment in New York.

"Well, we got through that without working up a sweat," Blaine commented, pulling Kurt in for another kiss; well-deserved, he thought, loving their morning so far.

Kurt broke away before many minutes had elapsed. "You. Me. Your bedroom. Now!" he commanded, in a low throaty voice, and he chuckled as Blaine's eyes widened and darkened. "We've got to get busy."

Blaine managed to splutter out, a beat on the late side, "you … you do know how that sounds … Kurt".

Kurt smiled. Blaine was practically incoherent. "Oh? We have a tight schedule, you know," he said in a normal tone of voice, but ruined the effect with a mischievous expression that revealed he'd known exactly what he'd said, and had a good idea how Blaine heard it. "You're not going to keep me waiting all day here, are you, Blaine Warbler?"

"Never," Blaine nodded vigorously. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Good. Now march," Kurt returned to the tone of command, punctuating it was a light slap to Blaine's posterior.

"Yessir," Blaine giggled, and led the way.

Blaine was surprised; there was more here than he'd thought, and he felt a little overwhelmed.

"It's not that hard, sweetie," Kurt was making a sympathetic face with a smile behind it. He positioned Blaine on a wooden chair, and sang to him:

_You've got style, that's what all the girls say_

_ Satin sheets, and luxuries so fine_

Blaine grinned as Kurt danced around him, singing in his lower register, and not needing accompaniment one bit, he thought.

_All your suits are custom made in London_

_ But I've got something that you'll really like!_

Here he undid the scarf wound around his neck and wrapped it around Blaine, then pulled him up to dance with him as he sang out

_I'm gonna dress you up in my love!_

_ All over, all over_

_ Gonna dress you up in my love_

_ All over your body_

Kurt pushed him back onto his chair as he picked up clothes he hadn't looked at yet, nodding a mock sad 'no' before singing again.

_Feel the silky touch of my caresses_

_ They will keep you looking so brand new_

_ Let me cover you with velvet kisses_

_ I'll create a look that's just for you!_

Blaine was dumbfounded, watching Kurt perform just for him. He was so flirty, no, not flirty, hot! And moved his body fluidly as he danced all over the room, his startling eyes never leaving Blaine for more than a second. He was totally mesmerized as Kurt sorted a few items as he sang.

_Gonna dress you up in my love, my love_

_ All over your body, your body_

_ In my love, all over your body _

_ Gonna dress you up!_

Kurt flashed a huge smile at him, then stopped in front of him, pulling Blaine to his feet, and resting his hands on Blaine's hips. "So, you wanna veto any of my decisions there, or just give in and accept the inevitable?"

"You. Are going to be the death of me," Blaine sighed. "As if I could deny you _anything_, after that!"

Kurt laughed. "Okay, maybe a little unfair." He pulled him in for a blistering series of kisses, then broke away when they both needed to breathe. "Fashion is something I take very seriously, my love, and we can't have you wearing just any old thing," he kissed Blaine's nose playfully, "especially when your dad's willing to pay for a makeover."

Blaine leaned in, not ready to give up just yet. Kurt as fashionista was hotter than he'd imagined. "I do have that stuff in my new room, you know. Maybe you'd better look over that too, later. To make sure you approve," he added.

"I thought you'd never ask," Kurt teased. He kissed him lightly once more, before placing a hand to his upper back to propel him out of the room. "Places to go... chop chop! Focus!"

Blaine laughed; not really wanting to leave at all, but knowing that arguing was probably fruitless.

**A/N: Stay tuned: what follows is a real treat! The song is of course Madonna's _Dress You Up_ (inspired by Darren's performance in the 2012 Fashion's Night Out video, available on Youtube – in this case it seemed perfect for Kurt to serenade Blaine with). I'd love to hear from you, as always; my readers here make my mailbox into the Virtual Lima Bean, a place to hang out and talk stories. And I love spending time there with you!**

**Remember our trio of canines over at Uncle Marty's house? They do in fact have their own take on the events of the day we've seen so far with Dave and Sebastian, and with their permission, I am happy to share this with you! Full credit for this idea goes to whyitisyou, and then to BlurtItAllOut and UconnHusky90 who were happy to join in the fun. These three, by the way, all write wonderful Glee fanfic, so you might want to check them out!**

**And now, to the tales (tails?)...**

Winky's Tale (or Tail):  
From whyitisyou to Nightingale63

My tail is never wrong and it tells me that this Dave kid is a nice guy. Dave is the nephew of my humans who comes to take care of my bodyguards when my humans are away. My name is Winky; I'm a 10 year old Yorkshire terrier; I have a house in Ohio where I live with my couple of humans and my couple of bodyguards (a Husky and a Bernese Mountain Dog).

My humans are quite the rebels and they went away leaving me alone with the drooling baboons. At least they had the decency to send Dave over; that particular day, however, he wasn't alone. He came home along with a tall slender boy who smelled of fancy coffee and sweaty toys (I particularly prefer my toys smelling like saliva; but what can I do?). The only problem was this guy was kind of rude by talking first to my servants and only then noticing my presence; at least, Dave is already educated about this.

But this Sebastian boy seems okay (or so my tail says): he petted me the right way and was properly intimidated by my bad-assness. Besides, fancy coffee often means fancy cookies to come with it. He was also the one who got my favorite game of tangling my humans with leash; clever boy… He also, one trick I could never teach Dave, knows the proper way of carrying a lady.  
The two boys appeared too absorbed in each other to notice I needed a ball throw just for me in the park. I tried reminding them about it, but human puppies are slow at learning new tricks. I forgive them this one. Eventually, I had to get my word out of it and my drooling baboons understood it for like a second. I'm surrounded by idiots! They finally managed to get the humans to the floor and I got the lap I wanted to curl for a nap at last.

The new human got away from my grip to the ground (I must be careful around this one), but he couldn't resist my puppy eyes and I earned a ride in his warm hoodie. That's more like it… He also said he'd be the one combing my precious fur; maybe he's more delicate than sweetie troll Dave and will know how to do it.

Then came a moment I got scared of; Dave had a worried look on his face. Was my tail wrong for the first time? Was the Sebastian boy a threat? I must be close to watch… What happened next was all but mixed signals: the boys hugged, then Dave got up, then they talked and Sebastian walked away through the front door.

The boy eventually came back and Dave did that amazing thing of spreading chocolate aroma around the air; he even made sure it was delicious by putting two mugs out. The boys talked a little more and then got all over each other; completely ignoring me! Outrageous! However, after a lifelong time, they got to clearing the chocolate smell down their throats. I found the room I needed to climb on Sebastian to smell his breath. He grinned at me and scratched behind my ear just the way I like it. I knew my tail couldn't be wrong; this new kid Sebastian is a good human.

_**And now Bodo's turn...**_

From BlurtItAllOut...

Ooh, I had such an exciting day today! Dave came by, and I _love_ Dave, he's always so much fun! Today he even brought a friend, and I _love_ new friends! Johnathan keeps reminding me to be a guard dog and not let strangers enter the house, but come on, it was just Dave, and someone tagging along with him has to be a new friend, right?

Johnathan kept barking to tell them how scary he is, but I barked to tell them how friendly I am, and how eager I was to play. I just couldn't help myself, and had to jump up to make sure they saw me. You know, I'm quite a petite girl - probably not more than 90 pounds, at least that's what my master says, and I'm sure that's not big at all. So I always jump as high in the air as I can, to make sure I'm noticed. I wanna play and cuddle and make friends!

I have another trick up my fur to make sure I'm not ignored too – I sit as close to the human as possible, and kind of topple one of my hind legs over so I end up sitting on their shoe. Do you know how difficult it is to move away when tiny me is sitting on them? Then I lean in, throwing my head backwards to keep eye contact all the time. And if that doesn't help? I turn around and give them my paw, as I've seen humans do to greet each other. Sometimes the human whimper and says something about too long claws, but that's really not my fault.

Umm, I think I forgot what I was talking about… Oh yes, my new friend, Dave introduced us to Sebastian today!

After a short car ride - I love the car! – Dave took Johnathan and me in leashes, and we've taught Dave to reward us when we walk nicely, so we did just that. I think maybe Sebastian was our reward today? He had brought _toys_ – I love toys! They had these _amazing_ balls they kept throwing, it was so much fun! I stayed close to Sebastian, because I love meeting new friends, and he was the one with the endless supply of balls. The humans' aims must have been bad, though, because some of the balls were thrown to each other, and not us. But as you already know, I can jump pretty high, and take the balls which are rightfully mine. I'm the dog, right? Sebastian ran after me to get the ball back, and that's just awesome, so I told him I'd play. When he caught up with me, I did as I do with Johnathan when we played, and jumped up with my front legs against him. But Sebastian isn't as quick as Johnathan, so he ended on the ground. How _fun_! A new game – I _love_ new games!

Johnathan played the same game with Dave, and the two humans ended on top of each other. Once I burst into the bedroom back home while master was on top of the other human, and he firmly told me that was _not_ a new game I could take part in, so I've learned to calm down when humans are on top of each other, ignoring them.

But if they are next to each other, there are other rules, and I sit down as I usually do to make sure I'm not forgotten. Or I make sure to fall asleep with my head on their shoe, so I know if they move. A drowsy gaze if they shift is all it takes for a good scratch behind my ear and a still human.

I'm so glad Dave brought Sebastian. He was really well trained, and an _awesome_ reward for me!

**And now, Johnathan's turn, courtesy of UconnHusky90**

Johnathan's Tail.

Something's changed.

Things have been all topsy-turvy since Marty-man and Sandy-lady left us - again!. But I could smell that they felt bad about leaving us, so when they come back I'll be nice and welcome them home with lots of barks and licks and jumping - unlike Miss Diva Queen, who will probably throw a snit and make them beg her forgiveness, like always.

The man-pup Dave comes over a lot to take care of us. He used to be so much fun! But as he grew, he got less playful and I could smell a funny sad anger on him that kept getting stronger as he got older. I always stuck close by him to cheer him up, trying to get him to play again. But it didn't help.

Hm. Now that I think about it, Dave isn't sad any more. Or angry. _That's_ what's changed!

Today, he smells very happy! _And_ a little nervous (like the way you feel when you're waiting for someone to feed you!) Wait. Now there's a new man-pup. I try to get his attention but Miss Winky slinks over and hogs it all. Typical. From what I can smell, the new man-pup likes us all - but not as much as he likes Dave, hehehe.

ROAD TRIP! We go in the CAR (Yay!) to an open field. Then the new man-pup - whose name is "Bastian" - brings out some fun TOYS! Yay! They toss balls back and forth and throw them for Bodo and me! (The Queen-Of-All just runs around their feet, yapping for attention.) The balls are good for chewing, but the man-pups like it when we jump and catch them mid-air, so we'll indulge them.  
(Plus I know I look darn sexy leaping through the air!)

We give them a nice workout. Finally, Bodo, the big lovable clod, knocks Bastian down on the ground. Thinking Dave would be happy to be close to him (I saw him checking out Bastian's tail before!) I push him and he falls over Bastian. And I was right!

They bring us home and it's TREAT TIME! They sit on the couch (the one we can't sit on, by the way). We try to get them to sit as close as possible and keep them there. It works and they hug. But Bastian leaves and Dave goes to the kitchen - not to feed us, darn it! - and makes that wonderful smelling choco-drink that Sandy-lady says we can't have because it'll hurt us. (Sometimes I think she's just hogging it all for herself!)

Bastian comes back smelling nervous and they bark a little and suddenly they are smelling happy. And hugging. Okay. Well, now they're biting each others faces. _And_ licking each others tongues. Why? Who knows, but at least they're happy.

Oh. _Now_ they smell like Marty-man and Sandy-lady do when they play in private. Time to go. But I'm happy that Bastian makes my Dave feel so good. It's been too long.

Oh, you silly man-pups! Someone needs to show you that if _that's_ what you want to do, it can't happen while you're lying snout-to-snout...

**And there you have it! Please give it up for our guest authors! Have a great week, everyone!**


	81. Chapter 81 Saturday, and time enough

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. See you at the end note!**

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … Christine's pregnant, and she's moved back in with Michael, and they're really happy about it. Blaine's still kind of shocked, but he's excited too. Kurt's determined to finish the makeover he started for Blaine, and they have to go pick up Cooper (and some things for Michael's birthday from Christine's list) … sounds like a busy afternoon. Meanwhile, Dave and Sebastian (maybe with a little help from Uncle Marty's dogs) finally got together as a couple and are all kinds of cute. It's been a busy week in Lima! So, that's what you missed.]_

"Don't you think taking the Nav was a little over the top?" Blaine protested, as Kurt pulled off the highway, following the GPS's instructions to get to the mall in Dayton.

Kurt smirked at him, and lifted one brow before returning his attention to the road. "I dunno … _someone_ seemed to have a little difficulty focusing after we left your old house," he teased. "And we've got shopping to do," he enumerated, counting off in the air, using his long fingers, "and gifts to bring back, and Cooper. Who knows how much luggage he might have packed."

"Fine. So, we _needed_ this big beast. I know, you love it. It's okay, I'm not jealous. Much," Blaine chuckled. "You and your beloved Navigator have a bond that transcends reason. I get it." Placing a hand on Kurt's knee, he squeezed it gently as he looked at him intently. "But the gas. I insist. Deal?"

Kurt made the final turn to get into the parking lot, then turned to him with a sigh. "Fine. The beast does have a huge appetite. Like Finn, but in car form," he added reflectively.

Blaine guffawed, and Kurt soon joined him in laughter. "I love you," Blaine finally murmured, as Kurt eased into a space.

"I know," and Kurt leaned forward to lightly kiss his lips. "But we really do have a lot to do. Out!"

* * *

Michael smiled. Christine was on the phone again, with her sister, from the parts he overheard. He wondered what errand she'd sent Blaine off on, but she'd paid no attention to his oblique inquiries. The direct approach hadn't helped either, he sighed. He walked over to her as she hung up the phone.

"So, what you doing?"

She smiled impishly at him and giggled. "What are you, like twelve? No, that can't be right, 'cause then I'd be married to a minor. Ew. What do think, silly man?"

He simply picked her up and carried her to the sectional, setting her down half on top of him.

"Hey! I've got stuff to do!" she protested, but ruined it by giggling some more.

"You," he murmured, kissing first her hair and then her forehead, and wrapping his arms around her, "have doctor's orders to follow. Which include a lot of resting. And staying hydrated. And eating well. But mostly resting," he added playfully.

"Really?" She tried for skepticism, but she reflected that he was just too damned cute. "Is that so?"

"And I know for a fact you've been very busy this morning. Cooking sauce for the lasagne," he didn't mention that it seemed to contain way less garlic than usual, figuring she probably couldn't stand the smell right now and he thought it tasted great anyway, having sampled a bit on her last phone call. "And plotting with your sister – should I be worried?" She swatted him on the arm with that comment.

"She'd say you should never discount that possibility..."

"And sending Blaine off on some errand, starting at the house – which is close to empty." He smiled and brought her in for a snuggle. "I think someone needs a nap."

Christine's head reared up at this. "Really? You're using toddler-speak on me?"

"Have to get back in practice, so why not," he teased back. "No, seriously, I don't want you falling asleep at my party. Just tell me what to do." She yawned hugely. "Oh, and thank you for providing me with _that_ for my closing argument. The defense rests. Or rather, the defense's wife needs to _go get her rest._"

She rolled her eyes and put on a pouty expression. "Maybe a little."

"Maybe more than a little. Just tell me what to do -"

"No."

"No?" He looked at her, genuinely confused. Hadn't she just agreed to go take a nap?

"Come with me?" she whispered shyly, causing him to break into a huge grin.

"Absolutely. I can deny you nothing, my lady." He lifted her hand and kissed it. "So, just tell me what you want me to get done for after you fall asleep."

* * *

Blaine followed Kurt out to the Nav to deposit the gifts his mom had had him buy, as well as the book and CDs (from him) and the scarf (from Kurt). "I can't believe we got this done so quickly," Blaine marveled. "I had no idea you could shop that fast. That anyone could!" That part of the shopping had indeed gone well. All except the part when he called his mom to clarify between a couple of choices for an ipod for his father. His dad had answered his mom's phone, and sounded really irritated for a minute, and then Blaine found out she'd been napping. He and Kurt had made a choice on their own in the end.

Kurt checked his watch, and closed the hatch after stowing all the bags. "I have a makeover to finish, and not enough time to do it." He frowned. "We'll do what we can, though."

"Can we stop for lunch?" Blaine tried to keep the whiny tone out of his voice, but his stomach was rumbling.

"Fine." Kurt looked at his boyfriend, who looked like he was trying not to beg.

"Fine?" Blaine was shocked; that was way too easy.

"'They even fed the slaves in Rome', and I need you to try things on, move fast, and get it done in time to get Cooper." Kurt punctuated this last statement with a shove towards the mall. "Those wrap sandwiches near this entrance looked okay."

Not more than fifteen minutes later, they were heading toward Hudson's. Blaine noticed that Kurt seemed to know this mall way better than he did, and decided it was easiest to just follow Kurt's lead. "Hudson's, Kurt? Good choice, but why?"

Kurt turned to face him. "Easy. Classic clothes, at least _some_ fashion forward stuff, and I checked their website last night so I know what some of my selections might be. _Our_ selections. Whatever! C'mon!"

They stopped in the young men's section, and Kurt headed over to the slacks, zeroing in on some classic cut skinny jeans in an array of colors. "Blaine? These look like they might be good for you, which colors … Blaine?" His eyebrows came together as he wondered why Blaine wasn't nearby, but spotted him over my the more formal section.

Blaine was fixated on a classic, trim cut navy blazer, and he felt the lightweight fine wool smooth under his fingers, and reached for one in his size to try on. Kurt showed up at his elbow, and Blaine smiled a guilty smile.

God, he looks so adorable, Kurt thought. Of all the things to try on here... "You miss it. The Dalton blazer. All this needs is some red piping and a crest, and voila."

"Maybe. I hadn't thought of it that way," he admitted. "But I guess I do. But hey," he straightened up, "no regrets." He flashed his smile at Kurt. "If you'd asked me back in August, it would have been one thing. But not now. You're not getting rid of me that easily," he cooed, wishing they weren't in public. It was hard to be in a place where they couldn't risk any contact like that, and for the millionth time, he hoped New York was indeed all he'd heard it was for acceptance.

The salesperson watching from a discreet distance smiled to himself. He knew flirting when he saw it, and even though these boys were avoiding touching, their eyes really held nothing back. He gave them a few minutes before deciding to approach them.

Blaine was just putting the blazer back on its hanger when Alan cleared his throat nearby. "Welcome to Hudson's. May I help you with anything today?"

Kurt faced him. "Yes, first off, can we get these in the next size down? I think these red ones," he indicated the red skinny jeans, "are probably too big, but I didn't see the next size down in this color. Also," and he looked fondly over at Blaine, "what do you think of this blazer? Can it be altered here?"

Alan laughed, "ah, serious shoppers, I see. Well, I'm here to help. I noticed the blazer when he had it on, and it's a good look for you," he said, including Blaine in the conversation smoothly. "Like you were born to wear it." Blaine gave an I-told-you-so look to Kurt. "The size is the right one for you, and yes, we do alterations, so that should be no problem to get it just right."

* * *

"You, sir, are amazing." Blaine closed the door, as climbed into the passenger seat.

"But of course," Kurt smirked. "Or you could go with fabulous. That works too," he added helpfully.

Blaine took out his pocket watch and checked it as Kurt watched with amusement, not saying that the time was displayed on the dashboard, right in plain sight. Blaine's love of his pocket watch just added to his old-fashioned charm.

"What?" Blaine asked.

"Nothing," Kurt said. "You're not shocked that we're on schedule to get your brother, are you?"

"Well, maybe a little. I promise never to doubt your shopping prowess again."

"I'll hold you to that. Considering the time, I think we did rather well," he replied, with mock modesty. "Not that I'd consider your makeover complete, but this is a good start. Enough so that, ahem!, laundry issues as an excuse will be almost ready to be retired for good."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Blaine waved his hand airily, imitating Kurt himself.

"Buster, if we didn't have your brother to pick up, I think I'd find a way to make you pay for that," Kurt growled. "Though," he added evilly, "since _I'm_ driving, and not you, there really isn't any reason I couldn't tickle you until you begged for mercy..."

"You wouldn't! Besides, airport traffic is notorious, and you need to concentrate on driving," Blaine blurted out, speed-talking.

"Safety first," he agreed. "You're safe. For now."

"And I could buy you a grande mocha nonfat latte at the Starbucks at the airport. With chocolate sprinkles if you like." Blaine looked over at Kurt, who was making a show of considering it.

"You know, I was going to say that the chocolate sprinkles were over the top, but shopping like that probably burns a fair amount of calories. You're forgiven. This time."

* * *

Michael finished vacuuming the downstairs, and nodded silently as he looked at his list, each item on it now neatly crossed off. Smiling, he strode to the kitchen to stir the sauce, grabbing a fresh spoon to steal a taste. Delicious, he thought. There was a reason this was his go-to request for special dinners, after all. He checked the time – and noted that by his instructions, it was almost time to get Christine up. He was debating whether to give her a little more time anyway, when his phone rang, and he saw Mimi's number on his screen.

"Hello!"

"Hello to you too, birthday boy. And where is my little sister?"

"Sleeping."

"Good answer." He could hear that she was pleased, and smiled. "She told me she invited a couple extra people, so I'll bring some extra plates and things. You are one lucky man, you know that?"

"I do. Anything more you want me to do to get ready?" He was starting to wonder what was on her mind.

"No, I was just calling to make sure she got some rest. In my mind, that was the most important thing on your list."

"Um, okay then. Mimi, I just want to say -"

"No big conversations right now, okay? We can talk later. Just consider it a good sign that I'm coming over to celebrate your birthday, right? I've got things to do, so see you later."

"Okay, thanks. Later." And she was gone. Indeed, the past weeks had been a whirlwind, and he was starting to feel the effects hit him. Getting a second chance with Christine, and reconnecting with Blaine, those would have been enough for him, and he felt humbled, agreeing with how he figured Mimi felt: that he was damned lucky his loved ones were so forgiving. Of course, the attack on Blaine had shaken him to the core. The fact that the worst had been averted didn't quell the horror and sheer fear he'd felt when he learned about it. So far Blaine seemed to be bouncing back amazingly well. He did credit Kurt for helping that process along, and found himself liking the boy more and more as he got to know him: he had a certain strength about him, and a stubbornness that reminded him of his own true love. However it had happened, Blaine had chosen well. And Christine's most recent news? Mind blowing; no other way to put it.

Walking quietly up the stairs, he mused that there was a time he would have sworn Mimi would never speak to him again. Fiercely protective of her sister, and initially she'd counseled Christine not to date him, he imagined she would have cheerfully throttled him when she learned why Christine was moving to Lima, if she could have gotten away with hit. Opening the door to _their_ room (that thought gave him a thrill, every time) he saw that she was still asleep.

Curled against the pillow in front of her, facing his side, he looked down on her. She looked so peaceful, and so tiny, curled up there (not that this didn't stop her from being a major bed hog, which she really was). He felt like he was looking at the young woman he'd married. He knew she wouldn't believe it if he told her, but he felt like she'd barely changed, and she was so lovely. Smiling a lopsided smile, he knew he'd better follow her orders, though: she hated being rushed for a party, and she had, after all, given him clear directions as to when she had to be awakened.

"Hello, love," he whispered softly, settling in and facing her. He kissed her cheek and waited for her to wake up. He smiled as she stretched like a cat, then scooted forward to nestle in his arms.

"Mmmm..." she murmured, eyes closed again, and she reached up to stroke his face. "Maybe you were right, that nap was great. Do we have some time still?"

"Depends. Do I tell you what you told me before you took a nap, or what I want to say right now?" he teased.

She scowled. "That means time's up, doesn't it."

"Well, it _is_ my birthday..."

"True," she smiled at him. "Well," she looked over at the clock radio, "we may have to take that into account. Right after I run to the bathroom. How the hell can something so miniscule make me have to pee all the time already?"

He chuckled as she sprinted away faster than he would have thought possible, and thanked God for birthdays.

His phone rang again, and he looked at it in irritation, which only grew when he saw the call was from the office. "Hello."

"Boss, I hope I'm not interrupting -"

"You are, so just get to it, Howie. This better be good."

"Um, well, I finished that research project you gave me, and I thought you'd want to see what I -"

He sat straight up, his attention fully engaged now. "Go on."

"Well, um, I do know it's your birthday, and well … I think you're gonna like what I came up with. Enough that I didn't want to wait to tell you," the young lawyer added.

"You've sent it to me already, I hope."

"Yes, sir."

He smiled. "You've intrigued me, Howie. I didn't expect to hear a final report this fast."

"Thanks, boss. I could keep on going, but I think you may have more than you asked for, if I do say so."

He grinned. Howard Goldstein was a good kid, and had sounded quietly excited. Not only that, but he'd broken his instruction to notify him via email, since everyone at the office knew that he checked it frequently, and hated doing business over the phone. This had to be good. This birthday just kept getting better, he mused.

"It's Saturday night. Go enjoy it, kid. And thank you."

"Happy to do it. You're not mad that I called?"

"Not one bit. Not for this, considering how you sound about it. Go have fun. That's an order."

"Yes, sir! Oh, and happy birthday."

"Thanks. Bye." He ended the call, then heard troubling sounds from the bathroom. She hadn't looked queasy when she woke up, but now... "Hey, honey, I'm going to go make you some mashed potatoes."

He heard a weak, "thanks, sweetie," as he rushed down to make a small batch of instant mashed potatoes. Oh well, he thought, time for fun later. For now he was just glad that he knew what worked to help her feel better.

**A/N: So glad to be back, and so sorry for the long wait. I hope you've enjoyed this. Lots going on in Lima tonight, and this party hasn't even started! Not to mention that Kurt wouldn't consider Blaine's makeover to be a fait accompli, not yet. And what's up with that call? Nope. My lips are sealed.**

**Kurt's quote? "They even fed the slaves in Rome." The source is my mom … I'd always thought she was quoting someone, but when I searched it and failed to find it, I came to the conclusion it may well have been a mom original. I shouldn't be surprised. Whenever she said that, presenting us with a big breakfast, you knew two things: don't argue, and don't plan on doing anything else until whatever it is (usually a big cleaning project) is done. Just thought I'd share that.**

**I really do hope to update soon, but I wanted to post this so you knew I still was here. I love hearing from you, as you know, and I'm glad you're still reading.**


	82. Chapter 82 Early Saturday night

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. See you at the end note! (At the end, I have a song related help request).**

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … Kurt and Blaine just finished shopping for Michael's birthday, as well as working on Kurt's makeovere plans for Blaine. No, he's not finished yet. And Michael's going to have plenty of company for his birthday, since Cooper's coming in for it (which he doesn't know) and Burt and Carole, as well as Aunt Mimi and her family, are all coming over. Good thing Mimi makes The Cake in multiples! Oh, and Sebastian and Dave are still over at his Uncle Marty and Aunt Sandra's house. Michael got a business call but seemed happy about it, and that's odd, since it's a Saturday and his birthday and all. So that's what you missed!]_

"Squirt!"

Blaine sighed heavily, and Kurt hid the giggle that threatened to become audible, not that Blaine would have noticed it just then. Because there he was, Cooper Anderson, _that guy_ from the _Free Credit Rating_ dot com commercials, and Kurt would swear he was actually wearing the outfit from the latest of them, complete with the expensive sunglasses pushed up into his hair. No wonder, Kurt mused, he was getting lots of looks from the people around him. Then Coop sealed the deal by breaking into a big cheesy grin, and a few teenage girls materialized, giggling and pointing.

"Please don't call me that," Blaine muttered, but Kurt noticed he was grinning right back at his brother, who came out of the gate and grabbed them both into a big hug.

"Well, Squirt, and I missed you too," he teased. Cooper's glanced around, and smiled at the girls standing about 10 yards away, who collapsed into a chorus of _oh-my-gawds_, and several of them whipped out their phones to take pictures.

"Not skulking around incognito, I see," Blaine rolled his eyes. "Really, Coop?"

"Hey, publicity is a good thing, and besides, they're harmless," and Coop turned to smile again for the girls, adding a friendly wave this time.

Kurt stared at the brothers, a bemused look on his face. He knew Blaine loved to perform, and could even be a ham in the right circumstances, but that was nothing compared to Cooper, evidently. And here in Ohio, it wasn't like the people were jaded by the sight of celebrities everywhere you looked. Cooper Anderson was a sensation, and he knew it.

"Kurt, nice to see you again, man," Cooper's voice was sincere sounding, and his smile a little more toned down as he looked away from his fans.

"Nice to see you again too," Kurt smiled back. "You have much luggage?"

Cooper laughed, and Kurt noticed that when he did that he could see the family resemblance. "It's all right here," he pointed to the large carry-on bag, and it looked like his laptop case was stuffed too.

"Oh, okay." He hadn't been expecting that.

"Good, so we can get back to help for the party, and you can help me with dad's present," Blaine said. "You want me to get one of those?" He gestured at Coop's bags.

"Nah, squirt, I'm good."

"Well, we're parked really close, but we should hurry, it's in short term parking." Kurt pointed in the direction of where he'd parked the Navigator.

"Cool! Well, thanks, guys, for coming to get me. Now we can get this party started!" Coop enthused.

"Is he always like this when he gets off a plane?" Kurt asked Blaine quietly as he led the way.

"You mean like a cross between a cartoon human and a puppy? Yeah," Blaine laughed.

* * *

It was starting to get dark, but Dave still didn't want to move from the couch, where he was entwined with Sebastian, and the big dogs, Bodo and Johnathan, were curled up nearby. Winky was nestled daintily on her little pillow near the fireplace, a pink chew toy tucked under one paw.

"It's getting dark," he murmured into Sebastian's ear.

"I don't care. Nowhere else I want to be," Sebastian whispered back, his voice a little hoarse.

Dave squeezed him a little tighter, and shook his head slightly, still barely believing this could be real. His lips brushed the hair above Sebastian's ear in a soft kiss before he sighed. "Not what I meant." He frowned. "My parents will be expecting me home for dinner, and I usually don't hang out here too long. Maybe I should at least text my dad."

Sebastian nodded his agreement, and shifted to allow Dave to get to his phone easier. Dave tapped out a simple message to his father and put his phone back. "You wanna go out for pizza?"

"Can we have it delivered here? I mean, I've got you all to myself here, well canines not included," and he smirked at the sleeping little Yorkie, "no offense", and they both smiled. "And I see no reason to change that."

"Much as I love that idea, no, way out here in the boonies no one delivers." He looked towards the kitchen. "We could probably figure something out, from what's in the kitchen. I mean," he added shyly, "I can cook a little, if you want."

"Growlybear, I'm intrigued. And ready to be amazed." He waggled his eyebrows playfully.

"Uh, well, I wouldn't get too excited -"

"Please. I don't cook at all, and most of the Dalton guys don't either. You could probably impress the hell out of me with grilled cheese."

Dave laughed, and frowned a little bit as they got up and headed towards the kitchen. "I can definitely do that, or better. I happen to make a mean mac n cheese."

"That boxed stuff! That's like, the official weekend food of Dalton! I never got to eat that in Paris, and I freaking love that stuff!"

Dave turned around, hands on his hips, surveying him curiously. "Seriously? I would've sworn you'd be some sort of food snob and all. But no, not what I had in mind – I don't eat that crap! When I say I make a mean macaroni and cheese, it's the real deal."

"I love learning about your hidden talents, Growly. And you, cooking excellent real food for humble moi – that is _hot_," he cooed. "You had me at the blue box stuff, but wow."

Dave fished out the cheese and butter from the fridge triumphantly. "Looks like we're in luck," he said, opening the cupboard to get out the macaroni he knew he'd find, as well as the other ingredients. "Actually, this is my family recipe, so I'm not surprised Uncle Marty had the goods." Sebastian watched, spellbound, as Dave went in to action, putting the water on to boil, then grating the cheddar cheese. After a few moments Dave looked satisfied with the pile of cheese on the plate, and put some butter in a pan to melt, to which he soon added flour. "If it's okay with you, we're just going to have the fast version," Dave said modestly, as he stirred. "I'll mostly cook it here on the stovetop, with just a little time in the oven under the broiler to make it crunchy on top." He fished a piece of macaroni out and tested it, chewing thoughtfully. "Seb? You're awful quiet."

"Oh, um, sorry," he blurted out. "Someone's distracting me, with yummy cooking smells, and a nice view of his ass, and his mad culinary skills. I didn't want to get in the way, or make you mess up or anything."

Dave chuckled, and adjusted the burner where the sauce was simmering lower, and turned around. "Come here," he commanded, and held out his arms. He held Sebastian, enveloping him easily despite the fact that the boy was a bit taller than he was, and murmured over this shoulder, "I love it that I can do this for you." He was glad that Sebastian couldn't see his eyes, which had suddenly teared up a bit. He just held him even closer and nuzzled his neck in a kiss. "And this way I get to keep you longer," he added.

"I wasn't planning on going anywhere, like I said," Sebastian answered, his body molding into Dave's, and he marveled again at how comfortable that felt, on the couch or standing, both were great. He felt his insides flip flop at the way Dave had spoken so tenderly of wanting to keep him, and wondered again why the hell he'd waited any longer than he had to, to do this. Too soon, Dave broke away to attend to their dinner. By the noises he made, Sebastian guessed he'd returned to his task in time, and went back to watching him, fascinated.

* * *

Michael looked up from his laptop as Christine joined him downstairs. "Bad one?" he asked.

"Not the worst," she tried to reassure him. He noticed she looked sort of pale, and got up to stand beside her.

"Liar," he teased. "Mashed potatoes?"

"Yes please," she said with a sigh, as they ambled to the kitchen. "It just sucks that they call it morning sickness – this hangs around all day!"

He uncovered the dish of instant mashed potatoes and pushed it towards her. "Shall we go with the grape or the orange Powerade, m'lady?"

"Ooh, I'm in the mood for the exotic. Do we still have some of that weird green flavor, whatever it is?"

"That stuff looks like liquid kryptonite," he complained. "For one, I don't know how you can drink that, for two, how the hell do they get it to be that color?" He noticed her face fall a little and rushed to try for damage control. "Hey, I'm sorry... whatever helps settle your stomach, I'm sorry. I'm really not trying to tell you what to do."

She smiled weakly. "It's all right; how about maybe you make me one of your lovely baby friendly cocktails?"

He smiled, happy to be forgiven. "The cranberry one?"

"Yum! Yes, the one with a splash of orange juice, then cranberry, then seltzer."

"As you wish," and he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, eliciting a giggle.

"Not getting less thirsty," she chided, tapping the side of the bowl in mock annoyance.

He put the drink together quickly, and added a thin slice of lemon as a garnish, and presented her with it. He'd made one for himself, and he sat down to enjoy it with her.

"Were you working just then?" she asked as she finished the potatoes.

"Not exactly. Howie had finished a special project for me, and I wanted to take a look at it. Don't worry, I have no intention of working through my own birthday party." He got up to stir the sauce, then returned to his chair. "Did you want me to help you with the lasagne? Is there anything else to do?"

She smiled, already feeling better, and instructed him to cut a couple of onions, and then saute them with the meat. She grated cheeses and got ready to assemble the lasagne. She quickly forgot about the project, as he suspected she would, and they worked together in the kitchen as it started to get dark.

* * *

"Hon, Dave's gonna hang out at Marty's." Paul had just read the text. He figured maybe for all his complaining the boy had taken pity on the dogs and decided to eat there and watch TV for a while, then take them out again before bed and head home. A reasonable plan, he thought.

"Aw, but I made cupcakes. And mom's making pot roast," Lizzy whined a bit.

"You know, we could bring him some," Mindy smiled at her daughter, who adored her big brother, and loved baking whenever she got the chance on the weekends.

"Yay!" the girl cheered, as Mindy shook her head in amusement.

"That'll be after we eat, young lady," she tried (unsuccessfully) to sound stern.

"He won't mind," she answered happily, diving to the bottom cupboards for food containers. "He loves your pot roast suppers, mom."

"He's not the only one," Paul added happily, joining them in the kitchen, which smelled fantastic.

**A/N: Mini chapter, I know, but I hope to write this weekend. Last weekend? Full of being my daughter's minion, getting her ready for prom, and before that, going and cheering her and her cast mates in A Midsummer Night's Dream. So, I do regret not being able to snag more time for writing, but the crazy seems to be dying down a bit. And hey, it's Mother's Day this weekend, so if I get to have lots of leisure... well, you see where I'm going with that.**

**I do have a request for you, for a future chapter (the next one, I think): Blaine picked up the ipod at Christine's request, for one of Michael's birthday presents. I want to have Blaine and Cooper work together to load songs on it for him (Michael only deals with the tech he has to, and hasn't had an ipod before). And the boys decide that each family member will have an "Easter egg" for Michael to stumble upon. I think Blaine's would be straightforward: modern, sort of sentimental, he wears his heart on his sleeve. Christine's would be a modern love song (she listens to modern music more than he does, mostly in her car). Coop's would be jokey, maybe something he remembers from his childhood, or something awful (Rick Roll, anyone?). Then something from his parents, and as a surprise, a song from Mimi. I've had a few ideas on this, but nothing really solid. So, if inspiration strikes you for any of these, let me know, and maybe yours will be the chosen song! You can put your suggestions in a review or PM. I think this will be fun. **

**Love to hear from you, and welcome to my new readers!**


	83. Chapter 83 Party Prep & other surprises

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. See you at the end note! (At the end, I have a song related help request).**

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … Blaine and Kurt picked Coop up from the airport, and are on their way to get there before Michael's birthday party starts. Michael's had a quiet day at home, and he's gotten some interesting news from his minion (er, work underling); Christine did ask, but she forgot soon after, caught up in making dinner. Ah, pregnancy brain! Dave and Sebastian? Still at Uncle Marty's. And that's what you missed!]_

"If you ever sing that again in my car I'll make you walk home," Kurt growled, but the oblivious Coop didn't seem to hear him. What kind of radio station still played crap like "Who Let the Dogs Out?" anyway, he wondered, and while Cooper was distracted by Blaine, he quickly changed the station, and breathed a sigh of relief when Adele started singing, which he turned down a bit, before returning his attention to the boring stretch of road ahead of him.

"Ah, Coop, hilarious as that song is, do you really want to put that on dad's ipod as your song for him? I mean, picking a song just to piss him off seems a little -"

"Childish? Annoying? Over the top?" Coop teased his brother. "Buzzkill, dude, but you're probably right. Though, if you think about it, it would probably motivate him to learn how to delete a song he doesn't want. I'd kind of be doing him a favor!"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Hey, he's not that bad at tech stuff, c'mon. I mean, he just pays attention to the stuff he needs to use, but he's not inept on the computer at all."

Cooper looked at him, his eyes narrowed slightly. Clearly things had really changed between his dad and Blaine, since Blaine had jumped to defend him like that. He shook his head and smiled a fond smile. He knew first hand how forgiving Blaine could be; he hadn't always done a good job being a big brother. Hell, he knew he'd actually failed him before, but Blaine always forgave him, sometimes without being asked to. "Well, he'll have you there to help him, Squirt, so I won't worry too much," and he messed with Blaine's gelled curls a bit.

"Coop" Blaine whined, "I did in fact grow over the summer, and can you please find something else to call me?" He cast a worried glance at Kurt, which lifted, as he realized Kurt would be unlikely to pick up on Coop's stupid nickname for him.

"Blainers, relax." He had noticed, at the airport, that Blaine seemed to stand a tiny bit taller, but it was hard to tell. It seemed clear that Christine's genes would continue to override their father's: Blaine would always be on the short side. "Besides, who know? Maybe you'll be taller than our new baby brother."

"Wait, what?" Kurt blurted out. "How do you know this? Isn't it too early for that?"

Cooper laughed. "The Anderson genes." Blaine nodded as he said this. "We've just had boys for like, four generations."

"Is that even scientific?" Kurt sounded skeptical, and found himself glancing over at Blaine, who seemed momentarily lost in thought. He tried to weigh how he felt about this, before blushing slightly, realizing how far into the future he was projecting.

"I don't know," Blaine finally added. "Aunt Mimi doesn't buy it either, but we'll find out eventually, right?"

Coop nodded, and gave what he hoped looked like a sincere smile. Even he knew there was a reason people usually waited a couple of months longer before telling people. He pushed aside this line of thinking almost as quickly as it surfaced, refusing to dwell on it, and knowing he certainly had no intention of verbalizing it. "So, Squirt, how far are you on the playlist for the ipod? I mean, for music he'd actually _want_ to listen to?" Coop smiled as Blaine launched into a lengthy list, complete with commentary, about his dad's favorite bands. He knew how to do at least one big brother thing right, he smiled and nodded grimly to himself: distract his little brother, and protect him from unpleasant truths if at all possible.

* * *

"Sweeties, yes, you can decorate the cakes now." Mimi smiled as Fely and Amy raced to the kitchen. "Ernesto, can you put the drinks out in the car?" she called, interrupting her husband, who was perched at his computer.

"I just got two words for you, Mims," he chuckled as he walked by her to go get the seltzers and juices and whatever else she wanted to bring out to the car.

"The secret-to-a-happy-marriage ones?" she teased back.

"Yes, dear," he rolled his eyes, then bent down to give her a peck on her lips as he walked by, arms fully loaded down.

"Never gets old," she breathed. She marched into the kitchen to see what the girls had come up with. One of the cakes had an overabundance of blue sugar crystals all over the top; the other two were more conventional, with chocolate sprinkles and flower shaped candies. "Um, what's this?"

Amy, the younger of the two, giggled, while Fely studied the ceiling. Seeing no help coming from her big sister, Amy leveled her gaze at her mother. "Well, blue _is_ Uncle Michael's favorite color, and I was going to scrape some of it – I swear it! – just before you came in, to make little channels for green, in a swirl pattern."

Mimi smiled; Amy was just starting junior high school, and her sister was two years older. Her design choices may have been surprising, but she was artistic and imaginative. "Okay, sounds good. Can you show me?"

The finished result was something out of Van Gogh's Starry Night, they all agreed, and Mimi helped them carefully wrap the desserts for the trip over to Christine's new house.

"Hey, babe, anything else we need?" Ernesto asked, closing the trunk of the hatchback.

"I think we're good; Carole's bringing salad, Christine made lasagne and bought bread, we've got cakes and some party nibbles, Blaine's getting ice cream cake on the way home, and I think we've got the rest of it covered too."

"Party! Party!" the girls started chanting.

"You heard what the girls said," Mimi playfully pushed her husband towards the driver's seat.

"Man, I am _so_ outnumbered here," he joked.

"You know it, Daddy!" the girls shrieked in unison, then dissolved into a fit of giggles, as Mimi snickered at them.

* * *

"Growly," Sebastian murmured reverently, eating the last bite of macaroni and cheese, "that was epic. I mean it, this is the best mac and cheese I've ever had."

Dave rolled his eyes. "Seriously?"

Sebastian sat straight up, and looked at him intently. "You have _got_ to learn to take a compliment better than that. I think I've just discovered my newest favorite dish. Thank you."

Dave was stunned; he _did_ mean it. He tried to regain his composure. "Um, you know, you don't have to thank me like that; I've made it like a million times, I could make it in my sleep. And hey, I benefited too, you know. Eating here with you was definitely more fun than going out. 'Cause I couldn't do this," he got up and pulled Sebastian up too, then kissed his lips softly, "or this," he pulled a very cooperative Seb into an embrace and nuzzled at his neck, ending by kissing behind his ear, causing a definite moan of pleasure from the object of his affections, "and definitely not this," and he kissed him deeply, punctuating it with a hip roll that made Sebastian melt. He pulled away to whisper, "I _love_ eating in."

Sebastian was shocked; true, they'd made out for a good portion of the afternoon, but evidently Dave was a fast learner, and who would have expected him to be so damned hot? "You'll get no argument from me," he croaked out, as all thoughts seemed to leak from his head.

"Couch?"

"Yes, couch," he managed to answer. In fact, it was fast becoming one of his favorite places ever.

"There's a Buckeyes game on. Wanna ignore it?" Dave asked with a straight face, pulling the taller boy down to face him.

"Absolutely." Sebastian grinned as Dave put the game on, and they settled into each other. "Who's ahead?"

Dave peered over him, "we are. But it's close." Soon they were enjoying being entwined again, with lazy kisses after the big meal they'd just had.

Winky woke up abruptly, and started yapping as loud as she could, quickly alerting Johnathan and Bodo, who seemed to know what she was saying.

Dave frowned, and leaned up on his elbows, looking outside.

"Tell me they just got excited by a squirrel or something," Sebastian muttered.

Then they both saw the flash of headlights, of a car making its way up the bumpy drive.

The dogs had now gone into overdrive, Winky running in literal circles in front of the door, while Bodo placed herself right in the pathway of where the door would open, and let out a series of loud woofs, added to the yipping Winky hadn't stopped doing. Johnathan, however, was like a ghost in the dark living room; off to the side, fur on end, feet planted firmly in front of him, and completely silent.

* * *

"Lizzy, you go first, you've got my cell phone for light. Turn on the light when you get in, or tell Dave to. It gets so dark out here in the sticks," Mindy complained.

"Sure mom! Sounds like the dogs are going to ruin our surprise a little. Oh well. I think he'll still be happy." She all but skipped to the front door. "Bodo! Winky! It's me!"

Sebastian and Dave had smoothed their shirts, tried to look casual, and suddenly focused on the game.

"Oh. Lizzy! We weren't expecting you," Dave called out to her, and crossed the room to turn on the outside light.

"Sebastian's here! I'm glad I brought extras on the cupcakes. Hi, Sebastian!" She ran over to the bemused teen, opening the container and showing him. "I hope you like them, they're chocolate with vanilla icing."

"They look great. Special occasion?"

"Nope," Mindy answered for her, closing the door behind her, as Johnathan's fur smoothed down to its usual look, and the dog loped over to greet them. "We just thought Dave might like some supper, since it's pot roast, and Lizzy of course wanted her big brother to have some dessert."

Dave took the hot casserole dish from his mother. "Mom, you shouldn't have. I'm okay. I just decided to catch the game here, and hang around to take the dogs out for their last stop before bedtime. Uncle Marty always says I can eat whatever I want when I'm here, and we did. You remember Sebastian, right?"

She smiled at him. "Of course I do; you're the one from that school in Westerville. What brings you here?"

Sebastian smiled his most charming smile at her. "Well, Dave told me he was on dog duty, and well, we don't have any pets at Dalton, so I decided to join him."

Dave nodded approvingly. He hadn't even thought of that. "True. He brought his lacrosse sticks and balls, and we had a great time with the dogs at the big open field at the park. Well, and after we got the dogs squared away, the game was on, we got hungry -"

"Let me guess," his mom interrupted. "Mac and cheese?"

"How did you know?" Sebastian was curious.

"For one, he makes it almost any time he cooks. Two," she smiled at her son, "his is even better than mine."

"That's 'cause he practiced a lot," Lizzy defended her mom.

"Well, that's true," she agreed. "And, there's no way he'd let a guest go hungry."

Dave found this whole thing surreal; he really hadn't expected his mom to surprise him here, and while he felt like it was the biggest day he'd ever had in some ways, to his mother it looked like nothing important had happened.

"Oh, and I didn't have dessert yet, I thought I'd save it to have it with you, to keep you company," Lizzy proclaimed proudly.

Dave beamed at his little sister. "C'mere." He planted a kiss on the top of her head. "You are such a sweetie."

Sebastian had drifted over to the couch, where Bodo pressed up against his leg, then nudged him with her snout. He patted the big canine, who responded with even more fervent requests for him to pet her more.

Mindy watched, sympathetic to the boy, who lived at a boarding school, Paul had told her. She imagined he missed the comforts of home: pets, home made food, maybe even his siblings. She looked over at her son, proud of how he'd proven to be a good host. "Looks like you made some new friends today," she stated.

Just then Winky launched herself onto his lap, prompting a gentle laugh from the boy. Winky stood on her hind legs to nuzzle him with her nose, and pawed at his hoodie. "I think I may have spoiled this one a little," he confessed, and allowed Winky to settle herself into the spot she'd been in earlier in the day.

"Well, it's not like Johnathan or Bodo would fit in there," Lizzy observed with a serious face, before showing that she got the joke too and giggled as she helped her mother get plates out.

"I hope you still have some room," Dave warned Sebastian.

"I think I'll manage," he smiled back.

* * *

"Okay, I think we got it all. Best we check with She Who Must Be Obeyed, though," Ernesto joked, as we plunked the last bag on the counter.

"I heard that," he heard from the other side of the kitchen. "And yes, it looks like you got it all."

Ernesto followed Michael out of the kitchen. "This really is a nice place. I knew it had to be, Mimi approved it." The men shared a chuckle.

Kurt pulled into the supermarket's parking lot, and eased into a space. He popped the trunk open, and Blaine and Cooper joined him as he got a few recyclable bags out.

"I thought we were just picking up ice cream cake," Blaine said, a little puzzled.

"We are," Kurt nodded, "but I figured we could pick up some fruit too."

"Great idea, Christine loves fruit. Me too," Coop added.

Kurt smiled a triumphant smile at Blaine, who just shook his head and followed Kurt into the store. "You go get the cake, I'll handle the fruit, okay?"

"Fine, but I've got this, okay?"

"Good." Kurt turned to select some fruit.

"I'm going with Kurt," Cooper declared. "So, what you getting?" he asked.

Kurt looked at him; Cooper looked eager to help, so he explained what he was looking for, and they shopped quickly, soon meeting up with Blaine.

"Whoah, Blaine, isn't that kind of big?" Kurt's eyes bugged out at the large ice cream cake, now decorated with Happy Birthday Michael in blue gel icing, with confetti style candies all over it.

Blaine and Cooper shared an amused glance. "Shall I tell him?" Blaine asked.

"Nah, I've got this. Yes, Auntie M is bringing over The Cake, several of course, since one only serves about eight," Kurt gave him a skeptical look here, but remembered that he had indeed wanted a bigger hunk of it than he'd expected to. "But this is my dad we're talking about. He _loves_ ice cream cake, plus with Auntie Mimi's family and a few others, we're gonna need it. Ice cream cake, _with_ regular cake, is an Anderson tradition."

"Okay then... well, I'm still putting out some really yummy fruit. A Kurt Hummel tradition," he copied Cooper's pompous tone for that last phrase. The brothers laughed, and headed back to the Nav with Kurt, happy to be almost home.

* * *

Christine looked around; they had fallen into their easy rhythm of putting the finishing touches on preparing the food, getting all the extra chairs arranged in the dining room, and the girls had helped set a festive table. Mimi accosted her.

"Sweetie, you need to rest. This is all good, and you look thirsty."

"I'm not that fragile, you know," Christine protested.

"Are you queasy or anything?" Mimi pressed on.

"Not right now. I'm okay, really. You've done a great job of helping me pull this together, sis."

"Of course. We do have helpers, too," and she smiled at her daughters, who had decided to go climb all over the sectional, distracting their dad and their uncle from the football game they had on. Christine watched as Michael walked over to the alcove where his computer and home office was set up, and with a squeeze to her sister's shoulder, walked over to join him there.

"Honey?"

"Oh. Everything okay?" Michael searched her face, looking for any signs of distress, and finding none.

She smiled a dazzling smile. "It's all good. It's just, I remembered you mentioned that Howie sent you a research project. What's that about?"

He looked around into the living room and the dining room beyond it. "It's good news, don't worry. Good for the case, I mean."

Her brows furrowed as she looked up at him. "Which case? You lost me there."

"It's about Blaine," he told her, his voice dropped to a near whisper.

**A/N: A fluffy chapter, for the most part, but sets the stage for more action soon. Hope you've enjoyed it! And I hope all of you had a great weekend, especially the moms out there. My Mother's Day was indeed fun; I have much to be thankful for. I welcome your reviews, comments, suggestions … it's so nice to hear from my regular readers, and I love meeting new readers to the story as well. I remind you, you do have a voice here: if there's something you'd love to see, or see more of, I do listen to your feedback, and because of it, this tale is undoubtedly the better! Have a great week, and I hope to update soon.**


	84. Chapter 84 Happy Birthday!

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. See you at the end note! (At the end, I have a song related help request).**

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … Cooper's on his way to Michael and Christine's house to surprise his dad, along with Blaine and Kurt. Mimi and Ernesto, Blaine's aunt and uncle, are already there, along with Amy and Fely, his middle school aged cousins. With the addition of the Hudmels, it's looking to be quite a party! Most of the people there know about Christine's newly discovered pregnancy, but not quite everyone. Meanwhile, Michael's a little distracted, having gotten some good news on the research he'll present to counsel for Blaine's hate crime case against Rick the Stick. Am I leaving anyone out? Oh yeah... Dave and Sebastian had an epic day together, and thank God for Uncle Marty's dogs – Dave was _this close_ to being unceremoniously outed to his mom! So, that's what you missed!]_

"They're here, they're here!"

Mimi smiled, hearing her daughters as they ran to open the front door. She felt a wave of affection and pride in them. The girls had actually proven to be reasonably good at keeping a secret: they were excited that Cooper was coming too, but hadn't let on. She hadn't told them Christine's big news yet, figuring _that_ was probably pushing the limits of what they could keep quiet about too far. From what she could see, she figured Michael hadn't guessed yet, but she reflected that with Michael it was always hard to know what he did or didn't know. She nodded to her sister, as they headed towards the living room.

"Yay, you made it!" the girls swarmed Cooper, after greeting Blaine and Kurt with quick polite hellos.

They squealed in delight as he lifted them, one in each arm, and spun them around a turn or two before plunking them down.

"Of course I did. I wouldn't miss it," he smiled at them, crossing over next to his father, and smiling warmly before reaching out to hug him. "Happy birthday, dad."

"This just gets better and better," Michael said sincerely. "I didn't expect you at all, but I'm so happy to have you here, son."

Coop nodded, and bent down to hug and kiss Christine, before turning back to his father. "You really have someone to thank besides me."

Christine beamed at him, and Cooper wandered in the direction of the kitchen. "That's one of _my_ presents. Blaine and Kurt helped of course, they went to go pick him up in Dayton." She turned towards the kitchen, where Blaine and Kurt had followed Mimi, laden with their purchases. "Thanks, boys. So, you got the ice cream cake?"

"Of course, mom. Oh, and Kurt got some nice fruit to put out." Blaine looked over and smiled at Kurt.

"Well, it's always nice to have some healthy stuff," Kurt was already busy washing raspberries.

"Great idea! Thanks, sweetie," Christine smiled at him and gave his arm a friendly squeeze. Turning to Blaine she said, "Let's get the presents wrapped. And," she looked at the clock on the wall, "do you and Cooper think there's enough time to load your dad's ipod before the party? Burt and Carole won't be here for another 45 minutes or so."

"We've got it covered, trust us," Coop answered her, mischief glinting in his eyes.

"All right, well, his CD collection is right here," and she pointed to the rack near his dresser, and handed him her laptop, which was open and ready to go. "Download what you want, it's already open."

"Mom, you do realize that telling Coop to download _whatever_ is a little dangerous," Blaine said, trying to keep a straight face.

"Hmmm..." Christine straightened up to her full height, then motioned for Cooper to sit down so she stood over him. "You, young man, are doing this at _my_ request. Just remember that." She looked at him as severely as she could manage, though her eyes gave her away, and then she left them to go wrap the other presents.

"You know, it's uncanny how much she looks like her sister sometimes," Coop mused.

* * *

Howie whistled, looking at the time. Sure, the boss had told him to go home hours ago, but he'd gotten involved in the case he was assisting on and the time had gotten away from him. Then he frowned, looking over at the envelope Jan had dropped in the boss's In box outside his office. It looked off, somehow, to him. Similar to the envelopes used by their usual courier service, but not. It was sealed, and addressed to Michael Anderson, that was all he knew. He fiddled with loading his laptop into his briefcase, and decided to leave it. He'd already sent him his research electronically, and besides, Michael got documents delivered all the time. Snapping his briefcase shut, he decided it wasn't something he was going to bother him about. It was his birthday, he was probably busy, and it would keep. Not to mention he seriously needed a change of scenery, mentally as well as physically. He was the last person out, so he turned off lights as he exited, and locked the place up.

* * *

"You really are a sap, Squirt," Cooper teased. "But he'll probably appreciate it," he added quickly.

"I hope so," Blaine said softly. As quickly as they could, they'd downloaded his dad's favorite CDs (or, as Cooper liked to put it,_ 'music for fossils')_ as well as Christine's suggestions, and then the fun stuff, the family's choices. They figured he'd stumble upon them, though he kept a list of who chose what that he'd share with him in the future. "You think he'll use it?"

His brother seemed to consider before answering. "Well, it's a high quality item that his minions have prepped for him. And, since one of his minions conveniently lives with him, he'll probably use it. Just don't go expecting him to change anything on it." He chuckled softly. Blaine was right, their father was tech savvy where he thought it counted, so for anything connected to his legal work or the office in general he was more than competent. On his own time, he could be stubbornly low tech: until recently he hadn't bothered to get a smart phone, and when they'd set up the flat screen and sound system in this house, he'd talked Cooper into handling it all, setting it up to receive Wifi and games as well as cable.

"Squirt, you gonna do some magic for the party?"

Blaine looked up from the laptop, rolling his eyes. "A, don't call me that. B, he's not a little kid, and besides, I feel funny doing it for family."

Now Cooper rolled his eyes. "For cryin' out loud, Blainers. Maybe just use that new magician's cabinet thingie to present the presents. C'mon, you know Amy and Fely love it."

Blaine groaned. He did like making them happy, and they were in fact enthusiastic fans of his shows. "Fine. I'll do cabinet stuff."

"And of course we'll have to sing. Don't look at me like that, Blainey. I'll behave, I promise. Besides, they kind of expect it. Maybe you can get Kurt to sing too," he added.

Last time they'd sung together Blaine had been ready to swear off performing with Cooper forever. This was right before he'd moved to Lima, when Cooper came for a visit when the semester ended at Dalton. At the time the brothers hadn't known the source of all the tension in the house, but maybe it had infected them: Cooper had picked apart Blaine's performance, and Blaine had blown up at him. Things really hadn't smoothed out for them until a couple of weeks later, when Blaine had helped his mom move out of the Westerville house, and Coop had insisted they Skype to talk things through. It hadn't been lost on the older brother that Blaine had forgiven him too easily: back then he'd seemed to desperately need his brother, facing a year at a new, public school, missing the Warblers, and dealing with his sad mom, who only made Blaine sadder for her by acting as bravely as she did. Cooper had gone to some acting classes in LA where brutal, ego-pummeling critiques were the norm, but this did not translate well into trying to help his already talented brother improve. He figured he knew better now, was more inclined to be supportive, and gentler in his critiques. He smiled as Blaine finished up with the ipod, and reached over to muss his hair, earning a quick, "stop it, Coop!". He grinned. Some things never changed.

* * *

Mimi joined Kurt, who was slicing the tops of some huge strawberries he'd just washed. "You need me to find some platters to put these out on?" she asked conversationally.

"Yes, please. I don't know my way in here yet," he responded absently, his eyes on his task.

Mimi got out some pretty serving bowls and a couple of platters, to let him choose. "This all looks so good. I'm gonna make sure you get invited to all our parties." She noticed the way the pale boy pinked up at the compliment. "Not to mention, it looks like you're a good influence on Blaine."

He turned to her. "I hope so." He looked at the prepared fruit in front of him, thinking of how to arrange it to put out.

"Well, you've had an influence on his wardrobe for the better," she went on. "He was starting to worry me for a while there." She reached over and arranged a dish with blackberries and raspberries, earning a nod of approval from Kurt, who was putting out strawberries on a platter, with a small bowl of clementines in the center. "But that's not all. He's happier, and he lights up when you're around." She looked into his eyes. "He means a lot to me. Christine's my baby sister, and I see so much of her in him." She sighed. "He's had some awful pain, things he shouldn't have had to face. But I think you help him to be more himself somehow, the Blaine I used to know."

Kurt looked at the woman in front of him. Tiny as Christine, and intense as Santana. Fierce maybe was a better word for her. He swallowed, and murmured, "thank you. He really does mean a lot to me."

"Those melons look and smell perfect. Who taught you how to pick them so well?" she asked, changing the subject.

"My cousin, Louisa. We bond over cutting boards and slicing fruit." He smiled a relaxed smile, thinking of her. "She told me I've got to go visit her some day, just so that I can eat a proper mango."

"Well, I like her already!" Mimi laughed. "Sounds like a girl after my own heart. And she's right, you know; nothing beats fresh mango, eaten in the tropics, so it doesn't have to be shipped when it's a tasteless rock. We don't eat the fresh ones here ever. Such a disappointment. Where's she from?"

"Rio de Janeiro. I don't get to see her much, but I hope to go see her on her home turf some day."

Mimi smiled a knowing smile. "You better pack some serious sunscreen, or go in summer."

"You know, that's exactly what she said too." Kurt smiled down at her. "I guess I should find out when mangoes are ripe in Brazil first, though."

* * *

Michael was getting up to answer the doorbell when his phone chimed. Unthinkingly, he answered it, not noticing who was calling. "Yes?"

"You didn't pick up your delivery."

Michael strode over to his office alcove, and frowned at the phone, seeing an unfamiliar number. "Are you sure you have the right number?"

"Yes. You have an envelope at your office. You'll want to read what's in it. And you may want to tell your son to have some holes in his memory."

Before he could say anything more, he saw that his caller had ended the call. "Damn," he hissed. Meanwhile, Blaine had come downstairs, and opened the door, admitting Burt and Carole. "What the hell?" he whispered.

After dinner, Blaine had the cabinet set up just the way he wanted it, and had gathered the smaller presents. He waved his hands theatrically. "Amy, it's your turn. Let's see if maybe your sister missed a gift in that section."

"Did not!" Fely protested.

"Well, maybe it wasn't there last time. Magic," he reminded her.

Amy opened the little door, and there was another present, this one from her own family, and she grinned, knowing it was the sports watch she'd helped her dad pick out. He had one just like it that Michael had admired, and Christine had confirmed that he didn't have anything like that.

Michael tried to look as normal as he could, enjoying the food, the company, and family around him. Until he knew what that call was about, he knew he wouldn't relax completely. He opened the gift Amy presented to him, and expressed genuine pleasure at the watch, which had some nice high tech features, but not too many.

The next gift, another small box, was from Christine. He sat up and paid attention as Fely found it in the next hidden compartment, and handed it to Christine, who handed it to him. She smiled, hoping he'd love the ipod.

* * *

"I guess I've got to go," Sebastian murmured reluctantly, pulling away from Dave. "This is probably about as late as we can get away with."

"I just don't want today to end. I still can barely believe it. I don't know how -"

"Growly." Sebastian put a finger to Dave's lips, silencing him. "Today was _awesome_. And our first real date, as boyfriends anyway." He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. "You got me – the guy that doesn't do relationships, now officially in one."

Dave stared at him, enjoying his playful tone, and way expressions flitted across his handsome face so quickly, settling on his eyes. He looked down at his feet then, feeling the reality of the day's end starting to hit him. "I'm in the closet, though. To everyone but the Warblers and Kurt and Blaine. You don't deserve that." Looking up again, his eyes meeting Sebastian's intense look, he continued. "It doesn't seem right. I feel like I don't deserve you."

"Never," he growled, replying, "never say that. I mean it." His eyes betrayed pain now. "The last thing in the world I would do is force you out to your family before you're ready. Been there, done that, not doing it again," he finished in a steely tone that would brook no argument. "If I thought you were going to try to be one of those pathetic lifer closet cases, that would be different. But, much as we'd like to think otherwise, in some ways we're still kids. We're in high school, you have to live with them, which, by the way, isn't all bad. And I can wait. Somehow, Growlybear, you make me want to learn patience."

"And you said you suck at relationships. Liar," Dave laughed, his eyes bright with tears threatening to fall. "I do want to tell them. Hell, I want to tell everyone!"

Sebastian laughed, before pulling Dave into another kiss. Pulling away, he said, "keep that thought. Maybe this coming weekend you can come up to _my_ 'hood. As you point out, the Warblers kind of already know you're out, so we can shock them by presenting my boyfriend. I'd like that."

"Deal." Dave grinned. Too soon, they'd said their goodbyes to the dogs, locked up the house, and left, parting at the end of the dirt road leading to Uncle Marty and Aunt Sandra's house. Dave concentrated on driving home, replaying in his mind all the moments of the incredible day that had just finished.

* * *

Cooper grinned at Blaine. They'd just finished their epic Duran Duran mashup of Rio/Hungry Like the Wolf, and their audience couldn't have been more appreciative. The girls had squealed when Blaine had dropped to the very bottom of his register, raising his hands theatrically to chase them as he sang at them "hungry like the wolf", and, he had to admit, their harmonies were absolutely perfect. Kurt had giggled and almost fell off his chair when Blaine had done some epic furniture hopping, singing some of the song from on top of the sectional, and then coming close to losing his balance before hopping off.

"Boys, that was great!" Christine beamed at them.

"Reminds me of the old days," Michael agreed, "complete with furniture hopping. Cooper, did you pick this thing out with that in mind?" he pointed to the oversized sectional.

"Maybe." Cooper just laughed at Blaine's dark look of warning. "Not saying!" he added childishly, prompting an eyeroll from his brother.

"Karaoke time!" Amy yelled out.

The grownups all agreed; all except for Burt and Carole knew how much they adored karaoke, and they were pretty good at it.

Ernesto sidled up to Michael, who'd gone to the kitchen for a drink. "Hey, birthday boy."

"You thirsty too?" Michael asked politely.

His brother in law noticed that the man had seemed a little distracted. Sure, he'd paid attention, clapped and looked happy in all the right places, but something was there. He knew things were good with Christine – heck, one look at her made that clear. He followed him in, and shut the door.

"All right. Spill. This is a perfect night – the boys are here._ I'm here_," he laughed in a self deprecating way, "food's great. What is it, man? You can tell me – mano-a-mano." It was a gamble, he knew: Michael could be good at hiding his thoughts, but it was gamble he chose to take, figuring maybe he needed another adult guy to talk to, and he wasn't going to hide from being that guy.

Michael looked off towards the living room, hearing the happy party noises of everyone listening to the girls, laughing, clinking of silverware on plates as people snacked. "How did you know?"

"Give me some credit, man. I mean, just because I live with one of the easiest to read women in the world," they shared a chuckle, since Mimi wasn't one for holding back, "doesn't mean I'm completely out of practice. Maybe if you talk about it... I mean, I'm here. Go for it."

He knew he could. Behind Ernesto's affable exterior, he knew the man was solid, and could be tough. He also knew Ernesto wouldn't make an offer he didn't mean, and he had to admit that right now he was missing his own brother, who was an Army doctor in Germany. He and Rob weren't all that close, but they had a frank, no-nonsense relationship that meant no holds were barred. But he wasn't here, and Ernesto was. Ernesto, who was easy to talk to, and could be trusted. And, it came to him, exactly who he needed just then. "I got this phone call. No, wait, I need to back up -"

"It's about Blaine's case, isn't it."

Michael looked at him in shock. "How did you know?"

He spoke quietly and directly. "My line of business. This case is big. Sure, it looks pretty open and shut, but the stakes are high for that guy. Being charged as an adult, on a hate crimes charge that includes assault, kidnapping, and intent to murder … well, I'm sure someone doesn't want his memory to be so good on the witness stand. Am I right?"

Hearing it said like that somehow made it even more real. Combined with Howie's research results he'd skimmed over earlier, the evidence was indeed really damning. But some of it would depend on what happened after the mic Blaine had been wearing had been destroyed. Ideally, Blaine's testimony and that of the two other boys would line up to seal the case, with a maximum sentence of life in prison. That call had made his blood run cold, and he remembered every word. He nodded yes, momentarily unable to speak.

"Come here, bro," Ernesto approached his much taller brother in law, holding him in a firm hug. "I'm not head of security my company for no reason."

**A/N: And our Saturday night is almost at a close. Are you as glad as I am that someone noticed something off in our birthday guy? Yes, a bit of a cliffhanger, but the next chapter is going to come very soon, thanks to it being a holiday weekend (one that I'm _not_ working on!).**

**Note for any non-English speakers: when Sebastian invites Dave up to his " 'hood " he's using a shortened version of the word neighborhood.**

**And, this is important for me to stop and say: I am so thankful for all my readers, and especially so to those of you who have reviewed, favorited, or followed this story. To my reviewers, you know that I love to interact with you, and your observations and suggestions are so valued. I'm torn, I admit, about the favorite or follow notices: I feel like I want to write a little thank you note to each one, but I'm afraid of being stalkery (really!). So, do know that I love to see those notices and I appreciate them. If you'd like to share your thoughts, long or short, please know that they are welcome, and I will write back unless you write them anonymously. And I'd tell anyone that I am privileged to know some of the very nicest people in the fandom!**


	85. Chapter 85 Beer run on a cold night

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. See you at the end note!**

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … Michael's birthday party went off without a hitch. Well, Christine thinks so anyway, and she's mostly right. Michael got good news from Howie, a junior lawyer at the firm who dug up some helpful research for the case against Blaine's attacker, Rick the Stick. But then he got a mysterious phone call warning him to tell Blaine to acquire a memory lapse, and do it quick! Yipes! Fortunately, his brother in law Ernesto noticed something was off. Whew. On the outskirts of Lima, Dave and Sebastian have said good night, but not before affirming that they're now official ... well, except to Dave's family. And almost everyone at school. And his life. But experience has given Sebastian patience in this area, and he told Dave he's okay with that for now. But Sebastian did invite him to Dalton some time next weekend, where they can be together as boyfriends, since the Warblers know Dave is gay anyway. And that's what you missed!]_

"Hey, babe, I gotta steal the birthday boy here to go get some more beer." Ernesto bent down and kissed his wife, ignoring her questioning look. "Don't worry, Chris, we'll be back soon. And we won't drink the beer in the car," he threw in a chuckle for good measure as he looked at his sister in law with a smile. Cooper looked at the men with a clearly puzzled look on his face – his father barely drank beer, and while Ernesto did, on occasion, he sensed something was up, but he really had no idea what it could be.

"Oh, and Michael, bring your new ipod – I'll show you how you can use it in your car," Ernesto added, in a flash of inspiration.

Most of the party guests accepted this at face value: Blaine and Kurt were busy, like many of the others, with dessert and coffee, and the house was full of comforting domestic noises and smells. Mimi narrowed her eyes but smiled at her husband, deciding to play along – for now. "Sweetie, can you get some more milk while you're out? I noticed they're low."

"Got it, babe." They shared a look that lasted only a moment, but to them it was full of meaning. He knew (and she knew) that yes, he'd need to explain this later. No, she wouldn't make a fuss, since he clearly was trying to not call attention to whatever errand was really pulling them away. Yes, she revealed with a split second side-eye at her sister, they'd protect her from anything she didn't need to know (they were in agreement that pregnant women shouldn't be upset if it could be avoided). And he caught the last bit, which he returned: that she loved him, and trusted him completely.

Michael bent down to kiss Christine's head, as she sat beside her sister. "Anything else you can think of that we might need while we're out?"

She furrowed her brow briefly, seemed to consider getting up, but decided against it. She motioned for him to lean down so she could whisper in his ear, "maybe more instant mashed potatoes."

He smiled a fond smile at her request. Of course. "You got it, babe. Are you okay for now?"

She nodded yes. "Be back soon?"

"Plan to," he assured her, then picked up his ipod and its box, and followed his brother in law outside.

"You are a smooth operator," Michael smiled appreciatively. "Too bad you're so upstanding, you might have had a future in crime."

"Hilarious. Remind me to laugh later. We'll go in your car."

Michael could see by the car's light as they buckled up that Ernesto was now all business, and he almost looked like a different person.

"I just wanted to thank -"

"Don't go there. For starters, your caller might have been trying to lure you to your deserted office. Going there alone, late at night, would be incredibly unsafe." He looked at his phone and checked his messages, and nodded to himself, a satisfied look settling on his face. "Jerry will be there first, and we'll be in his line of sight from the car to the office."

Michael paled at this comment; he would have raced to go there alone, and if Ernesto was right, that could indeed have been a very unsafe move. He felt his mouth go suddenly dry. "Holy shit."

"Look," his passenger reasoned, "just seeing that you won't be alone, even if he doesn't see Jerry – and he won't – will probably be enough to have him make himself scarce. Just in case, don't react to anything I do. Just so you know, _I'm_ going to be obvious, looking like your bodyguard." He reached into a pocket inside his coat, and drew out a medium sized handgun.

"Shit!" Michael exclaimed again. He'd been in high profile cases before, but he was a specialist in corporate law – plenty of sharks, for sure, but a different species of shark. Not the kind that issued threats of bodily harm.

Ernesto looked at him with sympathetic eyes. "It's going to be all right." He spoke slowly, quietly. "Do you want me to drive?"

"Um, maybe?" He seemed to reconsider, as they got closer to the office, and he concentrated on the familiar tedium of the short commute to work. "Well, um, no. I'm good, I think driving is helping."

"All right, man. But if you start driving stupid, it's not a choice anymore, capiche?"

* * *

"What do you suppose has gotten into him?" Christine wondered, as she motioned for her sister to join her in the empty kitchen.

"I don't know." It was true, she didn't, though she was sure it had nothing to do with beer. "We didn't have Ernesto's favorite, you know, and maybe Kurt's dad is more of a beer guy too. I wouldn't read too much into it."

Christine turned away, reaching for a glass, but really just not wanting her sister to see her face just then. She knew _that_ tone. It meant, 'this is my story, just accept it, don't question your big sister.' She knew Mimi meant well, but she didn't appreciate being in the dark either. However, she did get it that neither of the men had wanted to make a big deal of it, and Mimi hadn't put up a fuss. Distracted, she put away the glass, and walked over to the stove to get the tea kettle instead. "How about a nice cup of tea?"

Without missing a beat, Mimi answered, "If you don't like tea, you can at least make polite conversation!" Then they both giggled at the Alice in Wonderland reference, tension dissolving. "And yes, some tea would be perfect. Put on a whole pot of water; I bet we'll have some more takers. I'll go see who else is in," and she walked out to ask the guests.

* * *

Michael parked carefully, placing her car where Ernesto told him to. "Okay, I'm out first, you come out when I tell you to. And for God's sake, whatever you do, do not laugh at me. Laugh later if you want; this is a show for someone else. Got it?"

Michael swallowed, and nodded, not knowing quite what to expect. Then he did it; Ernesto got out of the car, and looked around, sweeping every vantage point and gesturing with his gun, before crossing in front of the car and gesturing to him that he could get out. He suppressed laughing, and now he knew why he'd been warned, but went along with the theatrics. His brother in law continued to guard him while he punched the keycode in (and Ernesto obscured it from on-lookers) and let himself be ushered into his own office, then locked it after they got in.

"Sheesh, it's like you moonlight for B rated cop shows," Michael stage whispered. "But, thanks. Weirdly enough, it does make me feel more safe."

Once in the inner office Ernesto dropped the oversized gestures, after he'd looked around and ascertained that they really were alone. "I want him to think you're scared, and that you've got protection, but maybe amateurish protection. Should make him think twice, but it also means we've got to step up our game."

"What? Why?"

"Because whoever it is, is now doing just that, if he's smart. Keep following my lead, but first, don't touch that envelope." He got out disposable medical gloves. "In case we ever want prints." Michael nodded, and let him open the envelope with the letter opener on his desk. He eased it out, and found it was only one page, which they read together:

_**Tell Blaine he can't remember anything they said once they tied his hands up and made him go to the car. In the preliminary hearing, if he does anything different, he won't live to testify at the trial.**_

That was it; printed on nondescript paper, in a common font. Ernesto pushed Michael into the chair and studied his face, seeing what he expected to see: Michael was suddenly pale and terrified looking. He waited a few moments, then turned him around in the wheeled chair to look at him, and away from the paper on the desk. "You don't do criminal cases, I know that, so that's why this is doubly difficult for you." He eased the letter back in the envelope, still wearing the gloves. "Don't touch it. It's evidence, and yes, we are going to report it. Well, not you personally, he won't have a chance to see you – or me – let the police in on this."

"Are they safe?" he croaked, feeling sick in the pit of his stomach.

"Yes. For something like this, there really is safety in numbers. A whole houseful of people is gonna mean a ton of witnesses. I've got this covered." He sent another text out, then looked up. "Hey, security is what I _do_, bro, so maybe I'll even give you a family discount." He smiled, trying to break the tension.

"You have no idea how glad I am that you do what you do."

"I may understand this better than you think. But we need to act as normal as possible. Neither one of us wants to upset your wife – my wife would kill me if I did, and I'll bet anything we're dealing with a total amateur; nothing I haven't seen or can't handle." He fired off another quick text, waited, and received an answer. "Jerry tells me our author's not around. We can get to the car, do our "errand", and get back to the party. Then agree with any suggestion I make. I'll try not to have too much fun with that."

Michael's gaze strayed to the gun. "Loaded?"

This earned a major eye roll. "You have to ask? I'm assuming you don't want a demonstration, here in your nice office."

"No. Not at all."

"Lock this up in your desk," he waited as Michael opened the drawer, slid it in, and watched him lock it. "The beer will come in handy as a prop. I'm staying the night, mi amigo, can't drive with beer on board, and Mimi can't carry me."

"Tell me you're not a sloppy drunk," and Michael let out a small smile for the first time since they'd gotten in the car.

"What? Oh, fine. No, I'm not. Just stubborn. And look, when we talk to Christine, I do the talking."

"We're telling her! Is that even a good -"

"Yes. And that's why it's me, not you. Trust me. I know how to do this, and she needs to learn about this the right way."

"I wish we didn't have to tell her." Michael's face was clearly anguished.

"Okay. Listen up. It's better for her to learn it outright than accidentally. And if we already have a plan when we do, we can reassure her. Trust me."

* * *

"You have got to tell me how you made this. This is delicious!" Carole was accepting a second small serving of cake

Mimi smiled at her. "Easier than you'd think. Just be careful, it's addictive."

Kurt squinched his mouth to the side. "Um, well, it's not exactly heart healthy, so I don't know -"

"_Kurt_." Just one word, but Burt sounded firm, not in the mood for a nutrition spiel. Burt sighed before continuing. "Listen, kiddo, it's not like we're gonna eat it all the time. Besides, if anyone can make a recipe healthier and still taste good it's this woman right here. Let her have her fun."

"Sorry, dad."

Blaine noticed that Kurt looked a bit deflated, and squeezed his knee to get his attention. "Hey, while they talk recipes, maybe we can get another slice."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Just how often do you Andersons eat this stuff?"

Blaine laughed. "I don't know. Birthdays. Major holidays. Warbler parties – they've gotten kind of spoiled." Seeing the stormy look in his boyfriend's eyes, he quickly moved the conversation elsewhere. "How about we see if the tea's ready? It's nice with dessert, and we can help bring it out." Kurt nodded his agreement to this plan, and followed Blaine to the kitchen.

Blaine spun him around so they were facing each other and leaned in for a quick kiss, then dropped his head to rest on Kurt's shoulder as he held him close.

"Kitchens with doors. I'll have to keep in mind that this is a feature I like," Kurt murmured, enjoying the closeness, and the his boyfriend's scent, so deliciously near.

"I'd have to agree. Maybe a couch too, do you think one would fit in over there?"

Kurt giggled. "Really, Blaine? Only you. No, no couches. I've made cookies with you before, remember? No couches, no rugs."

"That flour fight was _not_ all my fault," Blaine mock-pouted.

"Of course not. Honestly, how old are you again?"

"Old enough for this," and Blaine claimed his mouth again, this time with a more forceful kiss. "And maybe this," and he heard Kurt's breath hitch, as he held him firm and rolled his hips towards Kurt's.

"Blaine, we'll need to go back to the party soon, you know," Kurt breathily reminded him. "What's gotten into you?"

"Just the usual. Saturday night, with my gorgeous boyfriend, in these very distracting jeans, I might add."

"Yup. Very distracting. And um, very, well, revealing, Blaine," his tone had changed to one of warning. "And since we're not of age to do a beer run unless you've got another plan ..."

Blaine pulled back and looked at him with puppy dog eyes. "Maybe a walk under the stars? I mean, even if we're out there on the streets, it's still romantic."

"Good thing I brought my warm coat. And scarf."

**A/N: Lots of action afoot! Hope you're still enjoying. This chapter is a little shorter, but I didn't want to wait a week since it was ready. I hope you all had a good weekend. Thanks for reading, reviewing, etc. I've been so touched by how many of you are invested in this story. If you have comments, wishes (for instance, the Kurt and Mimi cutting up fruit scene was a reader request), feel free to share them if you review, or send me a PM if you'd rather.**


	86. Chapter 86 A walk cut short

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. See you at the end note!**

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … Michael and Ernesto just found out that someone really doesn't want Blaine to testify about what really happened when Rick attacked him, and they're about to return to the house (well, after getting beer and a few other things). Blaine and Kurt have no idea about any of this, and took the opportunity to get away from the party for a while to enjoy a walk on the cold November starry night. So, that's what you missed!]_

Michael paid for the groceries they'd shopped for as efficiently as possible. Beer, and then milk, eggs, orange juice, bread, butter: routine, easily found, perfect for breakfast for a crowd.

"Michael, get that look off your face. We have a plan, you've got backup in this – no way I'd let you face anything like this alone – and it's going to be all right."

Michael nodded, not daring to speak. He reflected that in truth he was terrified; a death threat directed at Blaine. He had no idea how to let Christine know this, and despite Ernesto's reassurances, he feared for the tiny life she carried. This pregnancy was so new, so unexpected, and yet so sweet, enough to make him believe the universe or God or whatever could forgive him, that they could start again. He remembered how wonderful it had been when they'd had Blaine: except for rare fussy moments, he'd been happy any time his mother was near, and quickly grew into a smiling, charming baby that caused all meaningful work to stop whenever the sitter brought him to the office. She'd been torn but had returned to work, and he'd been an idiot, he now felt, falling back into working too hard, striving for the position he had now. He knew he couldn't reclaim lost time, but he had resolved to parent more mindfully this time, to enjoy this baby along with her, and to never let him get estranged the way he had almost lost Blaine.

Blaine. He sat, stock still as Ernesto drove now (his brother in law had insisted, noticing his increasingly distracted state of mind). Smart, kind, funny, and talented. Charming, singing with Cooper at his party tonight; forgiving, and happy to be in the new house with their family reunited. Adorable, really, with that boyfriend of his. Sure, he admitted to himself, he was glad they weren't overly demonstrative in front of him, but he really did like Kurt the more he got to know him, and there was no question they were good for each other. He fought back tears, knowing that it was so damned stupid to rail at the universe that it was unfair, damn it, when things were coming together like this – why Blaine?

Ernesto glanced at his brother in law as he drove the short distance to the new house, and decided to pull over. This seemed to get Michael's attention, though he remained silent as Ernesto killed the engine.

"We need to talk a little more, bro."

Michael gulped and nodded.

"Okay," the shorter man's eyes narrowed shrewdly as he studied his brother in law. "I know you don't deal with this kind of thing, doing corporate law, contracts, that kind of stuff. I need to tell you why I'm _not_ terrified. Okay?" Michael nodded, and he waited a moment before continuing. "He wrote a letter for a reason. If he'd wanted to kill Blaine outright, he could have done it already." He decided not to detail the variations, including faked traffic accidents, leading up to frank point blank shootings. "He's desperate, but he's hoping to scare you enough that he gets what he wants. We're going to hear from him again, presumably after you've had time to convince Blaine to do what he's asking. Listen, he's not going to do anything until after that next contact."

"So, what do we do?" Michael's voice was quiet, but Ernesto thought maybe he detected a sliver of hope.

"For tonight, that's easy. I'm staying at your place, the house will be full of people, and we'll keep him and everyone else safe. In the short term, for next time we hear from him, we're going to tell him what he wants to hear."

"But -"

"It will buy us time." Ernesto reached over to place a hand on Michael's arm. "Look, I've dealt with worse. We'll get through this. You ready to go back?"

Michael nodded. Suddenly, he wanted to be back there so badly, surrounded by family, lights bright, all together.

* * *

Kurt walked beside Blaine, along the quiet road in the prettiest part of town. "You know, I've always loved these old houses, this neighborhood. The porches, lawns with huge old trees, and the view here of the river. I'm glad your dad chose this area."

Blaine smiled at Kurt, a smile with what their Glee friends had christened 'heart eyes' (though Blaine didn't know that), as he looked at his boyfriend in the moonlight. The moon was about half full, and the night was cold and clear, the stars bright, especially over the river and the land beyond it. "Do you think you'll ever miss it?"

"Lima?" Kurt asked, with a wistful squinch to his mouth. "The easy answer is 'no'. I mean, I've wanted to go to New York forever, get out of Ohio and all its stupid hick ways." He turned to face Blaine, his eyes connecting with his boyfriend's. "But part of me will always be the boy from Ohio, who thinks this kind of house is just about perfect, who likes being able to see stars on a night like this. And my dad, he's never gonna go to New York. And besides," he smiled at Blaine with a fond smile, "we found each other here, love in a hopeless place and all that."

Blaine chuckled. "Best thing about this place. But I do wish, you know, we could be like regular couples, holding hands when we go for a walk, kissing when we feel like it," he sighed, "like now. I want that life, a life where we can be _us_, you know?"

"Nothing can touch what we have, Blaine. You have to believe that."

Blaine smiled at his boyfriend's fierce tone, and loved how his eyes flashed as he said it. He was about to answer, when he was interrupted by Kurt's phone.

Kurt frowned, looking puzzled as he got his phone out.

* * *

"Hey, we're back!"

Michael was amazed; Ernesto sounded so cheery, so normal, and Cooper grabbed one of the bags, going with them to the kitchen to help unload.

"Dad, what's all this?"

"Breakfast. Figured we needed a few things..." He looked around, distractedly, then walked quickly back out to the living room. Cooper followed, a look of confusion on his face.

Michael stopped in front of his brother in law. "Where's Blaine?"

Ernesto turned from where he was. "What? He's not in the kitchen, or ..."

Christine spoke up. "Blaine and Kurt went for a walk a little while ago -"

"Shit!" Her eyes became huge; Michael was usually so composed, and he looked pale as a sheet.

Burt got up from his chair. "Why would that be a problem?"

Ernesto closed his eyes, needing just a second to put on his game face and adjust their plans. He still believed Blaine was safe, but he knew he'd feel better when he knew that for a fact. Jerry hadn't seen anyone watching them at the office, but he didn't have any eyes on the house.

Burt watched the other men, knowing there was something going on, and that the boys being out on a walk was suddenly not a good idea. He reached for his phone, and before Ernesto could stop him, he called Kurt.

* * *

"Dad?" Kurt looked at his phone, then smiled a smirky grin. "You there, dad, or did you just butt dial me?"

"Kurt. Are you okay? Are you both okay?"

Kurt looked around nervously, and answered quickly, instinctively quieter. "Um, yeah. Why shouldn't I be?"

* * *

Ernesto looked outside, but listened closely. What's done is done, he sighed; if the boys were in danger, he might not have chosen to expose them in this way, but Burt had acted quickly, and maybe wouldn't have listened if he'd tried to stop him.

"Kiddo, where are you?"

"Dad, we're walking along Riverside, you know, the old houses I like -"

"Thank God. Kurt -" Burt stopped, noticing that Ernesto was now gesturing for his attention.

"Ask him exactly where they are. The nearest house number." Ernesto's phone was out, and he was pulling up a maps app.

"Kurt, what's the closest house number?"

* * *

Blaine looked at Kurt, listening with mounting anxiety; even from where he was, beside Kurt, he could hear Burt's worried tone. He looked over, and saw the mailbox. "It's 1701," he whispered to Kurt.

"1701, dad." He looked around, the quiet street looked the same, as blandly safe and idyllic as the background of a Norman Rockwell scene.

* * *

Ernesto nodded. He'd put Burt's phone on speaker, and located exactly where they were on the map, about a ten minute walk away. He gestured for the phone, which Burt handed over.

"Kurt, this is Blaine's uncle. Walk towards Elm Street, and keep your phone on, but cover it up some. Don't talk unless you need to. We're going to meet you. Stay together, and just walk, okay?"

* * *

Kurt nodded, then hummed his agreement, put the phone in the inside pocket of his jacket, and met Blaine's eyes.

"So, we walk," Blaine said, nudging his elbow. "C'mon."

They walked quickly, both boys trying to look casual, scanning for … what? Blaine broke the silence, murmuring softly as they walked, "Kurt. My uncle, he's a security expert. Ex-military. I'm sure he's meeting us. We'll be all right."

"Blaine, I'm scared. What the hell is this about?" Kurt spat out, in a whispered voice. "I don't know whether to run or just collapse."

Blaine gulped, not knowing any more than Kurt did, wanting so much to gather him in his arms. He reached into his pocket and opened his silver pocketwatch, showing it to Kurt in the dim light from the streetlight ahead of them.

_Courage_. They both looked at it, before he closed it, and they shared a glance before crossing the street. Elm Street was now about two blocks away.

* * *

Michael and Ernesto got back in his car, with Ernesto again insisting on driving. "Damn it, Michael, I live here, and you're not driving."

Michael was too shocked to argue. His mind kept looping on the same track: he wanted Blaine, home and safe, and as quickly as possible. He didn't argue.

Meanwhile, Burt had separated from them, insisting he knew a shortcut, and ran off on foot through the dark suburban back yards.

"Kurt, you still there?"

Kurt turned to Blaine; he opened his coat to hear the phone better, but kept it shielded, so the light didn't spill out onto them. "Dad, what are you doing?" he hissed. "You sound like you're running or something. Your heart!"

"Damn it, kiddo, never mind that. Okay, keep your phone on," and then Kurt didn't hear any more.

Blaine felt his phone vibrate, alerting him to a text. He shot Kurt a questioning glance. Kurt shrugged, and he decided to open it. **Squirt, they're going out to meet you. It'll be okay**.

The boys crossed another side street, one more to go until turning onto Elm. **We r ok 4 now**, Blaine speed typed back.

* * *

Despite the tension in the room, Cooper chuckled, earning him a puzzled look from Christine and Mimi. He showed them Blaine's text. "He's okay, but I think this is the first ever text-speak he's ever sent."

* * *

The boys turned onto Elm Street, and noticed a car coming towards them from a few blocks away. Before it got to them, they were greeted by a winded-looking Burt Hummel, darting out of a back yard from across the street.

"Thank God," Burt huffed, running across the street to join them, and bending down, hands on his knees, to catch his breath.

"Dad!" Kurt hugged him from his side. "What's going on! Why would you run like that? Are you okay?"

Ernesto pulled the car up almost as Burt was ready to answer. "I am now. You have no idea. Let's all just get in."

* * *

"Thank God!" Christine was at the door, and had only stayed inside after Mimi repeated that she would bodily restrain her if she didn't listen to her. "Blaine!"

He was the first in, knowing his mother was worried about him. "Mom, I'm okay, we're both okay, it's all right." He was soon joined by his father, who bent down to hold both of them as they moved away from the door. "Mom, you're crying."

* * *

"All right, that's the last arrangement for tonight," Ernesto put his phone away. He looked at the two men studying him from their positions on the sectional. Michael looked much more like himself, and Burt looked quietly resolved.

"So, your brother is going to pick up the girls, and basically everyone else is staying here tonight," Burt said. They'd listened when he insisted that the danger probably could extend to Kurt, since the boys were so close, and maybe had been seen together.

"Right. And we'll stay down here. It's comfortable enough, and we can take turns keeping an eye on things." Ernesto looked at Michael again. "Why don't you let Mimi stay down here with me for now, and you go be with Christine. We can switch out later if you insist, but she needs you now."

* * *

Carole smiled at the sisters. "Thank you for telling me. I'm just glad I could help." She put away her stethoscope and blood pressure cuff she'd brought in from her bag in her car. "I think everyone's okay." It was so early in the pregnancy, she knew, but once Christine had calmed down, realizing that Blaine was safe, and that Ernesto was taking charge of things, she seemed all right, and her blood pressure and heart rate had stabilized. Mimi was sitting on the bed beside her, her arms wrapped around her little sister. "We girls are a lot stronger than they give us credit for."

"Thank you. You've all been so wonderful," she murmured.

Michael came in to his bedroom, and was glad to see that Christine looked like herself. "You ready to try to sleep, hon?"

Mimi got up, and gave her sister a warning glance. "Don't go trying to play hostess. Ernesto's brother's family is taking Amy and Fely for the night, and I'll get everyone settled. Let me handle it."

Christine laughed, seeing that her sister was in no mood to negotiate. "You win. I don't know about sleeping, but I can try."

Mimi swooped down and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "You do that." She turned to Michael, "and _you_, make sure she does."

Mimi left, followed by Carole, and Michael closed the door. He smiled as his wife giggled a little. "You gotten used to her ordering you around yet?"

"No," he smiled back, happy to see her starting to relax. "But for now I'm happy to oblige."

**A/N: First of all, I want to say a big thank you and hello to my new readers and those who are following this story. Next, thank you so much to my reviewers, and how invested you are in this story. I know this is a short chapter, but I do have a few days off in a row and plan on writing for as many of them as possible. It's kind of fun, as they're in a cold November night, while here in New Hampshire we've had record breaking hot temperatures these last few days. I almost forget, writing this.**

**For my reviewers, I do write back, and you know I love your feedback. Readers, if you have questions, or things you'd like to see, I'd love to hear from you. Your encouragement means so much to me!**


	87. Chapter 87 Sleep, anyone?

A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any songs or products you may recognize here.

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: and here's what you missed! Most everyone is back at the Andersons' now, safe and sound. But no sleeping going on yet – who can blame them? So, that's what you missed.]_

Burt sat on the edge of Cooper's bed, taking his shoes off and looking squarely at the woman who would soon be his wife. He smiled; why did it seem that when life was at its most bleak there were sometimes little flashes like this, to remind them of wonders they had never considered. "So, they're feeling better, knowing that, as least as far as you can tell, everyone's all right?"

"Yup. I mean, I did tell them that at this point, working with what I've got, the only thing I can tell them reliably is how Christine is doing, and she's fine." She sighed. "I understand about them being worrywarts, but she's healthy, and people can be really resilient." She joined him, sitting beside him at the foot of the bed. "Do you really think we should stay? I could go home –"

"We've been over that," Burt nodded, an affectionate look in his eyes. "Ernesto's glad to have you here, and more people means more folks to help staying awake in shifts. But you should rest; you had a long week, and I know you must be tired."

"Except sleep seems sort of impossible right now."

"You got a hold of Finn, right?"

"I did. He's fine; I told him to get to bed at a reasonable hour."

Burt smiled. "He's a good kid, and he can manage. Good. I bet Kurt knows about this already."

"Probably, since Blaine knows, so that makes everyone in this house."

"I'm happy for them, about the baby I mean."

She looked in his eyes, full of kindness and a softness that told her he was probably remembering back to when he'd learned he was going to be a father. "Me too, honey."

"You're worried about Kurt though, aren't you?"

He exhaled heavily. "How could I not be? I mean, we all got freaked out for a little while there; it was a frickin' one-two punch, hearing there was a death threat, and then realizing that they were out walking around in the dark, no idea any of this was going on."

* * *

"I'm just not sleepy at all."

"You know you should sleep," Michael murmured, tucking a lock of her hair out of the way to plant a soft kiss on her cheek.

"I wish. I mean, I'm tired, but this has all been sorts of crazy. Thank God tomorrow is Sunday." She rolled onto her side and propped her head on her arm to look at him directly. "I'm glad Carole's here, and I'm glad she knows. I feel like at this rate we'll hardly have anyone to tell when we need to go public." They shared a soft chuckle, and then the light mood passed. "Do you really think Blaine is safe?"

Michael's mouth showed the tension this question brought immediately, his lips practically losing color as he grimaced, looking outside. "Ernesto says he is. Chris, I didn't want you to have to know about this –"

"No, you need to stop thinking like that. I deserve to know. Besides, no way I'd want any of you to go through this without being able to be there for you." Her brave words ceased as tears came anyway, and Michael moved quickly to hold her close, as the tension of the night caught up with her, and she let out a soft sob.

* * *

Ernesto settled into the armchair. Mimi looked at him, knowing that to anyone else he looked absolutely relaxed, but she could see the tension in the set of his jaw. "Hey, babe, the girls all settled in at Thomas' house?"

"They are; I talked to them a little after you said good night, then I talked to Justin and warned him not to let them watch any scary movies (which basically means he doesn't get to pick, boo hoo) and talked a little to Linda. It's all good. The girls kind of know something is up and they're curious as hell, but they knew they weren't gonna hear it from me. I'd be just as happy if they stay in the dark on this one permanently."

He motioned for her to join him, and she did, climbing onto his lap and settling there with practiced ease. "Babe, they're fine, and so are we. I really do believe this. We've got our plan for tomorrow, and for tonight, as a precaution, we're on in shifts."

"As if anyone wants to sleep right now." She'd noticed, as she expected he had too, that the house was still full of little noises, people talking, walking, hearing the plumbing running.

* * *

"No, Coop, I've got my regular pajamas here, thanks. But you can borrow them if you want," Blaine suggested, teasing right back.

"Squirt, they don't fit, or you know, love to." He stepped closer to his brother, looking at him carefully. "Blainers, you sure you're okay?"

Blaine looked outside, not meeting his gaze. Coop knew without being told what that meant, and just waited. Finally Blaine spoke. "I mean, yes, I'm okay. Scared, I mean, you guys scared us half to death! We didn't even know what we were trying to get away from." Blaine looked down at his feet, and his voice dropped lower. "I mean, it was such a great night; but then dad's birthday party was kind of ruined, and once again, here everyone is, sick with worry – about me." Blaine looked up to his brother now, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "And I'm grateful for everyone, I really am, but …"

"It really still sucks." Cooper finished his sentence for him, and opened his arms, soon filled with a trembling, teary Blaine. "It's gonna be okay, Squirt, we'll make it be okay."

Blaine sniffed, but hardly seemed comforted.

"You're worried about falling asleep."

He nodded; no use in lying to his brother.

Cooper disengaged him, and held his arms as he looked at him with a smile. "That air mattress there, that's for me, bro."

"Coop? but –"

"Hey, they put me here as chaperone, but no way I'm sleeping with you! Might as well put someone in with you who'd appreciate just how grabby you can be –"

They were interrupted at this moment by Kurt, who'd emerged from the bathroom looking pink and still slightly damp, and now was starting to double over in a fit of giggles.

"Um, you _heard_ that," Blaine said, pointlessly.

"Blaine, I knew that I loved your brother, but this clinches it," Kurt managed, once he could control his breathing. "Mission accepted." He gave a mock salute, and bent over, laughing some more.

"Now, remember that I'm still going to be _right here_," Coop reminded them. "Sorry, gotta do the big bro thing."

Kurt rounded on him mischievously, his eyes dancing. "Oh, you mean you don't want me to deflower your brother while you're right here in the room –"

"Kurt!" Blaine's voice sounded strangled, even as he couldn't help but think Kurt looked hot, wearing a pair of his pajama pants and his own dark blue v-necked tee.

"Exactly! Got it in one!" Coop answered back, playing along, amused by his brother's state, and happy for Kurt, who'd just distracted him so effectively. I like this guy more and more, he thought.

Kurt crossed over to Blaine, who he thought looked a little gob-smacked for some reason. "Sweetie? You okay?"

Blaine straightened up, and answered, "I'm fine, Kurt."

"Yuh." Kurt eyed him critically. "Better work on your acting skills, you big liar." He looked over at Cooper, who was finishing making up the air mattress bed. "All right. Let's have a kiki!"

* * *

Mimi and Ernesto were startled by the sound of the boys, bounding down the stairs, and Kurt and Blaine sang out,

_Let's have a kiki!_

Cooper sang back to them, right behind Blaine,

_I wanna have a kiki_

Kurt snapped his head around, and sang back alone

_Lock the doors – tight!_

And Kurt and Blaine sang again,

_Let's have a kiki!_

Cooper sang back to them, where they were now all downstairs,

_I'm gonna let you have it!_

Kurt and Blaine were all smiles as they answered again, starting to be surrounded by curious parents.

_Let's have a kiki! _

Coop sang back

_I wanna have a kiki_

Kurt motioned with his hands, directing them as he sang and they danced,

_Dive, turn, and work!_

A puzzled-looking Burt made his way down the stairs and turned to Carole. "What the hell is a kiki?"

Kurt smiled a huge smile, and sang from the center of the room now,

_A kiki is a party for calming all your nerves_

_ We're spilling tea and dishing just desserts you may deserve_

Cooper came to stand beside him, and sung next:

_Although the sun is rising, few may choose to leave_

_ So shade that lid and we'll all bid adieu to your ennui_

And Blaine joined them, standing in between them with linked arms as they all sang out,

_Let's have a kiki!_

By now everyone was downstairs except Michael and Christine, who were the last to come out of their rooms, and were coming down the stairs.

"Do I even want to know?" Michael asked, smiling, looking at the group of people that suddenly didn't look bothered by anything.

"Well, if we can't sleep, we may as well have a kiki – a party, which is easy, since we've got plenty of leftovers," Kurt assured him. "I'm going to make some warm milk, we'll have some dessert and hang out, and then maybe sleep."

Michael grinned, looking at Kurt and Cooper, who seemed like co-conspirators. Blaine looked like himself again, and Burt looked as amused as he felt. Christine had crossed the living room to laugh with the boys and ask about their song, and Ernesto nodded his head approvingly, as Michael went to stand by him. They watched as the boys filed into the kitchen, Mimi with them, and the rest of them plopped themselves into the comfiest seating they could find. "Kid's got spunk," Ernesto said approvingly. "His idea's not too bad. I hope Mims makes coffee. For me."

"Chris? You up for this?" Michael called over to Christine, who'd claimed her favorite spot on the huge L shaped sectional.

"Completely. Kurt's a genius; a little nuts, maybe, but still." Her face changed to a more serious expression as she lowered her voice. "He's so good for Blaine. Did you see?"

He nodded yes, and had to agree. "I'm going to make sure I get some of the cake. For both of us, of course," and he winked at his wife, and joined them in the kitchen.

* * *

About an hour later, Burt and Carole were out, sleeping soundly.

Michael watched Christine sleep, and idly fiddled with the collar of her pajama top, feeling sleep soon to come too. He leaned over to kiss her hair one more time, then settled in, holding her close and smiling as she made a contented noise in her sleep.

* * *

Mimi smiled at her husband. "Hand it over, big guy."

"Should I bother to put up a fight?" he teased.

"Nah. Too much trouble. You sleep first; you sleep on command way better than I do, and I'm good, I swear."

He nodded, and handed over his gun, which she put back under a lightweight throw next to her. "I know we told Burt and Michael we'd wake them up and they'd be next –"

"But we'll really do no such thing. We've got this, babe." She smiled at him, and squeezed his hand as he settled into the recliner, leaning it all the way back and letting her tuck in the quilt around him, then leaned down to give a quick peck on his lips. "I love you."

"Love you more," he whispered softly. He chuckled, "and with you in charge, I think I'll sleep just fine."

Soon after, as she expected, he was sound asleep. She returned to her book and smiled.

* * *

"'Night Kurt, 'night Blainers," Cooper sang out to them softly. "Behave."

Blaine rolled his eyes in the dark. "Really, Coop? Good night."

"Good night," Kurt said, in Cooper's general direction. "We'll do our best."

Blaine smiled, and sighed contentedly as he felt Kurt behind him, the big spoon, arms wrapped around him, his own hands caressing Kurt's forearms. "I can't behave, when I'm with you," he sang softly to Kurt.

"I heard that," Coop murmured sleepily.

**A/N: Of course, the song was Let's Have a Kiki by the Scissor Sisters, and here a tiny snippet of I Can't Behave by Caravan of Thieves (also, if you recall, the first song Blaine sang to Kurt in this 'verse). So, our characters are all tucked in (except Mimi, who's pretty fierce). More soon! Thanks again, to all of you reviewing – your feedback makes for a better story, for sure, and thanks too to all of you following/favoriting this story for your vote of confidence!**


	88. Chapter 88 Sweet dreams

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or any products or songs you may recognize here. See you at the end note!**

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … Mimi's awake and on guard downstairs, and Kurt and Blaine are curled up together, conked out … aww! The house is finally quieting down. I think. Sebastian made it back to Dalton just in time, and is starting to relax in his own room. So, that's what you missed!]_

Dave said good night to his dad once his father had announced he was bushed, time for bed for him. His mom and sister had long been gone to bed by this time, and he was nowhere close to sleeping. How can I be, he thought; I've just had the most incredible day and night, and can still barely believe it happened. He wants to yell it from the rooftops, whoop and holler like a red-neck hick, and most of all he just wants him back beside him – and it's so weird, so unsettling, to be unable to do any of it.

He'd had moments, while watching the end of a late game with his dad, where he'd actually considered telling him, then and there. He'd watched his father, and tried to think of how it would go. He sighed, knowing for sure how it would go with his mom: it was a sin, it was wrong, he was wrong in thinking that was what he wanted, he was confused, he needed prayer and repentance, he needed the right girl, and so on. No mystery there: it was a topic he'd heard her sound off on before. He knew she harbored pity, not hate, for gays, but as far as he was concerned, was that so much better? Either way, it's not like she'd be thrilled to learn of his status update. That he couldn't make public. Aaagh.

If only he knew what dad would say, he ruminated. He'd always had an easier time talking to his dad, but then his dad was different. His dad said he believed in God, and was a Christian, but just wouldn't go to his mom's church, which he claimed had gotten too extreme over the years. Fortunately his mom wasn't that invested in the news and politics, since his dad had laid down the law and basically banned Fox News, claiming it was full of distortions and pandered to wackos. They'd briefly argued, but she'd basically given in. They watched network news, when they watched any news at all, read the paper, and disagreed on politics some, as far as he could see, but his father seemed more liberal-leaning. He remembered when they'd talked about the Ellen DeGeneres show when he was younger.

"_But Pastor said I shouldn't be watching it. But I _like_ her," she said, in an almost-whine._

"_So, watch her. It's our house, our TV, who cares what you watch," he'd answered, sounding exasperated._

"_She's a _homosexual_," she'd said, her voice dropping to a whisper, as her eyes darted to where he and his little sister were eating breakfast._

"_This is ridiculous. I mean, I've seen the show with you once or twice, you know, and she's also funny, and upbeat, and doesn't seem to have a mean bone in her body. I can't say that for most of the shows on TV," he reasoned. "Has she really ever honestly offended you?"_

"_No," she admitted. "I like her. I even like to get up and dance, you know, when they have that part of it on. And she's a fun interviewer."_

"_That settles it," he father had playfully pounded the countertop, his eyes full of humor. "In this house, we watch Ellen. My word is final on this."_

"_Yes, dear," she'd answered demurely, smiling and pecking him on the cheek. "After all, Pastor also says I'm supposed to obey my husband."_

He wondered again if maybe he _could_ come out to his family; maybe it wouldn't be so bad. His little sister adored Sebastian, and he couldn't imagine she'd mind. His brother was away at college, but he couldn't recall that he'd ever given gays any grief. Of course, before Kurt Hummel there hadn't been any out gays to pick on at McKinley. But maybe if his father was okay with it too, well... He sighed, exasperated, knowing that it wasn't that simple. Not like his dad could just order his mother out of her homophobic beliefs, if he even could be counted on to be supportive, which he had to admit, he was unsure about.

Dave looked at his phone. He smiled; Sebastian was no doubt back at Dalton again, and usually stayed up late. He sent a quick message. **Hey, 'Bas, you still awake?**

Moments passed, and then his phone hummed with a reply. _**Growlybear, of course I am. No way I could sleep yet!**_

Dave grinned, momentarily at a loss for what to say, and then he typed back a reply. **Is it ridiculous that I miss you already? Why is Friday so far away?**

_**If it's ridiculous, I am too. And I am never ridiculous. Seriously, I just want you. You're addictive.**_

Dave felt like his face was going to fall off from smiling so big, and he felt a flock (wait, do butterflies hang out in flocks?) of butterflies in his stomach. **I can't believe it, still. I'm just so happy you're mine. **Oh, God, the second he sent that he felt his stomach drop, as if he'd just plummeted down the biggest rollercoaster. Oh God, how needy do I sound? He was starting to feel the beginnings of a freakout, when he was startled by his phone. Sebastian was calling him!

"'Bas!"

"Growlybear, I decided it was time to stop typing. I think I smiled all the way back to Dalton, and that, my friend, is a lot of smiling. Though, of course, my body was also remembering my hot guy in another way..." Sebastian's tone was teasing, flirty, and Dave didn't know without seeing him how literally he meant that. Dave felt himself blush to his chest at least, and was glad he was in his room, the door firmly shut.

"Do you have any idea what your voice does to me?" Dave loved hearing his flirty tone, knowing that it was directed at him. And truthfully, Sebastian had indeed called his every nerve fiber to instant attention.

Sebastian laughed, hearing Dave's somewhat strained voice. "Maybe a little. Tell me: what does it do? I'm curious?"

"Really, 'Bastian, phone sex. After only one date?" Dave giggled, turned on and feeling shy at the same time.

"Oh, you're right. Where are my manners? Everyone knows it's bad form to have phone sex before actual sex. My bad." Dave laughed, easily visualizing the smirk and eyebrows that went with his boyfriend's falsely contrite tone.

"Ah. As if that little comment is going to make The Situation any easier. Bastard," Dave cooed.

"The Situation? Whatever do you mean, good sir? Should we be switching to Skype?" Sebastian asked, his voice elaborately polite.

"God no!" Dave spluttered, afraid Sebastian meant it, and honestly not ready for quite that yet...

"Relax, Growly. Though hearing you come undone like that does make it hard for me to be on my best behavior," he said smoothly. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "I mean, I feel like I've never been better in my life in some ways, but I just wish … I just wish I had someone to tell. Does that make sense to you? I mean, I thought about telling my dad tonight, even."

Sebastian sighed. "You know I'm okay with whatever you're ready for. But just don't do it impulsively, or do it thinking I expect you to, just for me. It's all right."

"But it's not." Dave quieted, not wanting his voice to break, and fearing that it just might. Somehow, admitting this out loud hadn't made it any better at all.

"You know, you _do_ have people you can talk to, people you don't have to hide around."

"I know; I'll go to Dalton next weekend, and that'll be great and everything -"

"Growly." Dave stopped, hearing an edge to Sebastian's voice he didn't know how to interpret. Sebastian continued. "Do what you want, but remember that Blaine and Kurt know you're gay. And I'm sure they'd be happy for you."

Dave smiled; he really hadn't thought of that, but now that Sebastian said it, it seemed so obvious. "Cool. You know, that really would be good, you know, to have someone to tell. Does that seem silly to you?"

"No, not at all. Though it makes me think Friday is way too far away." Dave smiled, reassured, and happy to hear the sexy purr return to Sebastian's voice.

"Tuesday? Maybe we can meet halfway for coffee?"

"Growlybear, I thought you weren't a java man!" and Dave grinned as he heard his boyfriend's chuckle.

"I'd drink whatever to get to see you," he answered truthfully.

"Oh, babe, the not-at-all-innocent places that brings my mind to," he teased back. "Tuesday it is. We'll figure out where tomorrow. Dave?"

"Yeah, Sebastian?"

"I would have totally texted you, if you hadn't beaten me to it."

Dave looked at his phone, a little awestruck. "Maybe you'll be first next time."

"Maybe I will."

Dave was floored when he looked at the time after they finally said good night; they'd talked for almost an hour. Still unsure he'd be able to sleep, he eased himself into bed, smiling and thinking of all the things they'd said, and wishing he didn't have to work tomorrow, or he knew he'd run right up to Dalton.

* * *

Cooper eased himself off the air mattress/bed and stood up to stretch. Blaine, notoriously insomniac, especially when upset about anything, was clearly out, and Kurt was too. He smiled; they'd already changed positions, and Kurt was on his back, with Blaine looking like he'd tackled Kurt and stayed where he'd landed: half on Kurt's body, half off, one arm flung across Kurt, their legs tangled together. Kurt's head was angled towards Blaine's, his cheek up against the top of Blaine's head.

Cooper decided one last stretch, maybe a bathroom trip, wouldn't be a bad idea, and the house sounded quiet. Getting up, he noticed the hall light on, and saw that the door to his father's room was cracked open. Curious, he opened it a little more, and when he did, Michael's eyes met his. Father waved to son, motioning for him to come closer.

"Hey, can't sleep either?" Michael asked in a whisper.

"Almost. You okay?" Cooper noticed that Christine was on her side, facing her husband, one hand on his chest. She looked deeply asleep.

"I think so. Just hard to get everything out of my mind. I mean, I'm really glad Ernesto's here and everyone else too, but the quiet is sort of getting me."

Cooper smiled knowingly. "You forgot your birthday present."

"What?" Michael looked utterly confused. He'd gotten several, after all, and the party had quickly been overshadowed by the drama that followed it.

Cooper spied the new ipod on his father's dresser. "Allow me." He smiled to himself, tapped a few times until he found what he wanted, popped in the earbuds to check the volume. Then a few more taps, and he handed it over to his father. "Just hit this spot, and it'll play. I've chosen the song, and it's the one from me. It was supposed to be a surprise, but I think this is a good time for it, and I think you'll like it. If you want to stop after that one song, or whenever, just hit this button here, and you'll be all set."

Michael had listened carefully, and wondered what was in his older son's mind. Their tastes in music didn't usually coincide much, but Cooper looked intently at him, and he decided to go with it. "Thanks, son. I'll give it a try."

"'Night, dad. See you in the morning." And he left, leaving the door cracked just a little, the way he found it.

Michael put the earbuds in and pressed Play, almost immediately breaking into a huge smile, wishing his son could see it.

As surely as the cookie gave Proust a flood of memories of his childhood, this song replayed a beloved scene, repeated many times from when Blaine was a baby, up until he was a tiny boy eager to sing along with his cool brother, and this had been one of their favorites. Tears sprang to his eyes as he listened to the chorus, imagining his boys singing along with it:

_Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch_

_Who watches over you?_

_Make a little birdhouse in your soul_

_Not to put too fine a point on it_

_Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet_

_Make a little birdhouse in your soul_

Too soon, the song was over, and he fiddled with the controls until he found a way to make it repeat that song, not ready yet to let it go, or the wash of comforting, sweet memories it had brought.

He smiled, listening to it again, knowing he'd be thanking Cooper for picking the perfect song to add to his playlist, a song he'd sort of forgotten about, to be honest. He hoped they would sing it to the baby, and the anticipation of that happy thought did help him relax. He turned the device off, removed the earbuds, and placed it on his nightstand, then snuggled down into the bed beside his wife. He'd have to thank her too: having Coop come back had been perfect, and the ipod was something he was going to like more than he'd figured he would.

**A/N: Short, but I hope to write more song is Birdhouse in Your Soul, by They Might Be Giants (and it is indeed a family favorite for us). **

**Dear readers, I do listen to you, and several of you needed your Growlybear/'Bastian fix. The other scene has been ready to write for some time now, and I hope you enjoyed it as well. Who knew Coop would choose so wisely? but then, aside from the goofiness he's a sweetie, and picking a song that he loved, that was a part of his brotherly relationship was a great choice to load onto his dad's ipod. **

**Thank you, all of you reading and reviewing, and welcome to my new readers, as always. I love interacting with you, as you know. In answer to a review that I answered in a PM, but will share here too, in this 'verse Blaine and Kurt have not granted visas south of the equator. Kurt's kidding aside, he'll enjoy cuddling Blaine tonight, but even without Coop there in the room this isn't the context either of them would choose for a first time. Also, -no spoilers!- regardless of what happens with the various couples, I will keep it rated T.**

**Happy Sunday, all!**


	89. Chapter 89 Sunday morning

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or anything you might recognize here. I'll just say, by way of reminder, this tale is rated T.**

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … Finally, everyone's settling down – what a Saturday night! The Anderson house is full, and Blaine and Kurt slept in Blaine's bed, with Cooper to watch over them (he'd also given up his own double bed to Burt and Carole). I'm not sure if Ernesto or Mimi slept at all, but they did keep an eye on things. Sebastian and Dave finally got to sleep, but not before promising to get together as soon as their schedules allowed, on Tuesday. It's now Sunday morning, and that's what you missed!]_

Kurt woke up, not sure at first that he really was indeed awake, but there it was, Blaine's arm strewn across his waist, and he felt Blaine's every exhale as his face was nuzzled up against his upper chest. Feeling the unmistakable urge to pee, however, was the definite clue-in that this was reality. Had it really been necessary, he mused, to drink that much coffee and tea last night? He smiled fondly at Blaine before attempting to ease out of bed without awakening his sleeping cutie, who grabbed blindly at where he'd been and made an adorable noise that sounded a little confused, followed by a sleepy "Kuuuurt?".

"Right here, but I'm headed off to the bathroom," he informed him, then swooped down to deposit a gentle kiss on his boyfriend's pouty lips. "Good morning, gorgeous," he purred.

Blaine blinked sleepily, and hauled Kurt back in beside him in the still-warm bed. "Stay?"

"Really, Blaine?" Kurt rolled his eyes. "Puppy eyes notwithstanding, I'd rather not have your parents come in to get us for breakfast or something. Though I do admit you're very tempting." He beat a quick exit then, his bladder and his good intentions both egging him on by then.

Blaine sighed and stretched lazily, noticing that Coop was already gone, and he smelled coffee and bacon. Kurt was right, but he figured who could blame him for not wanting the night to end? Then he noticed the time: almost nine thirty, and groaned, figuring they probably were the last ones up, and had probably come pretty close to exactly the vision Kurt had warned of.

* * *

In Michael's study alcove, he and Ernesto were finishing up their statement with Detective Johnson, with Burt and Carole seated nearby with Christine and Mimi. "Millie, thanks so much for coming out here to do this," Ernesto said.

"No problem. I certainly don't want to bring any further attention to this, and Chief thought a woman in plain clothes coming out to take your statements would be least conspicuous."

"Only because he doesn't know you," Ernesto smirked, then smiled at the Iron Lady of the local police. Her silver hair hinted at her age, but her physique told another story, of a fit woman who could probably still run down most criminals, if she had to. And he knew from bumping into her at the shooting range from time to time that she was more than proficient in that department. "Though your 'prop' donuts were a nice touch."

"I may have my professional pride to uphold, you know," she smiled. "Not to mention that a good jelly donut on Sunday morning is practically holy."

"How dangerous do you think the situation is?" Michael asked, unable to keep the strain out of his voice.

She paused before answering, measuring her words. "He's had time, and opportunity, probably lots of them, and never spoke to Blaine directly or threatened him. Just you. This suggests he really is being up front in his demand: he wants Blaine to appear to be too traumatized to tell anything beyond what the other kids actually saw and heard." She didn't finish that thought on purpose; no point, she thought, in verbalizing again in front of these people what would upset them to hear. "Our strategy is clear, then, right?"

Michael glanced at his wife, then at Ernesto, before he answered her. "Yes. Tell him Blaine will do as he asks. And if it comes up before he testifies, that he'll just say he can't talk about it. You didn't answer my question."

Her eyes narrowed. He wasn't one of the top attorneys in the state for nothing, so it was no surprise that he hadn't been distracted by her non-answer. "The real answer? I think he'll be safe: you're going to tell him exactly what he wants to hear, and if he threatens in any way, you're to act scared."

"That part shouldn't be hard." Michael frowned.

"At the same time we can't have an obvious presence; if he's looking for evidence that you've talked to us, we can't give it." She indicated his cel phone. "With the modifications, we'll have every call recorded. Unfortunately, his phone is a burner, but we may still be able to get a location if you can talk to him longer." She leaned forward, meeting his pained gaze. "We _are_ taking this seriously; you know that."

"I know you are. I just feel so helpless."

"We're with you, bro. We all are." Ernesto looked to Mimi, who looked murderous as she glanced outside.

"We'll get him. Before Blaine ever has to perjure himself," she added. "We're just waiting for a mis-step."

Cooper watched them all, standing by the cold fireplace clutching his coffee. He smiled as he saw Kurt descending the stairs. "'Morning. Coffee?"

"Absolutely," Kurt murmured, heading to the kitchen, followed by Cooper. Kurt turned around to face him. "Can you fill me in?"

"Sure. Where's Squirt?"

"Right behind you. I have a name you know," Blaine murmured crankily.

"Look who's up finally!" Cooper teased. "I think that's like the third pot of coffee or something. But it's just finished brewing, so it should be good." He saw that his light tone wasn't landing here. He waited for the boys to get their coffees, and motioned for them to sit. "Dad just finished up with Detective Johnson." He noticed the look they exchanged. "Look, Blainers, from the police's point of view this is a separate crime, and doesn't directly involve you. She came in plain clothes, oh, and she brought these donuts, and is trying to not call attention to this. For all the caller knows, we're keeping it quiet, doing exactly what he asked for."

Kurt looked at him over his cup of coffee. "So, what do we do?"

* * *

Damn. He knew he couldn't talk. Not here. And he couldn't move too far. Shit. He moved a box out of the way and angled the phone so he could see it better. Good, plenty of battery left. He grimly opened it up and composed a text, cursing at the cheap phone for its lack of a keyboard. The message was finally done, and he nodded to himself, before pressing "Send".

* * *

"The boys are down. Amazing what the smells of coffee and bacon can do." Christine tried to distract her husband, even as she was starting to feel inconveniently queasy. "Actually, maybe I need some mashed potatoes."

Intended or not, that snapped Michael out of his reverie. "I'm on it. You gonna make it? I've got this."

"I think so. Thanks, sweetie; it's better I avoid the kitchen right now." She smiled weakly at him, and he reached over to give her shoulder a gentle squeeze before striding to the kitchen.

"Hey, sleepyheads," Michael greeted the boys, as he quickly assembled the mashed potato mixture and popped it in the microwave.

"Hey, dad. You all done in there?" Blaine asked.

"I think so. We're just gonna figure out today. There'll be plainclothes coverage out of sight, but I doubt that'll cut it for your aunt and uncle." He chuckled, and Blaine and Cooper nodded agreement. "For now, we'll just stay put. You two go ahead and eat, I think you're the last ones." He went for a spoon to go with the food, and poured Christine some iced tea to go with it. He waited, and soon the microwave dinged and he was ready to bring her her breakfast (of sorts). He put the food on the tray, and smiled as he put one of the donuts on it too, with a napkin underneath.

* * *

"Feeling better?" he asked, as Christine had made quick work of polishing off the potatoes, and then had eaten the donut at a much more leisurely pace.

"Much."

He smiled. "Donuts make everything better."

Carole giggled softly. "Now you just sound like Finn." Burt joined her, chuckling.

He frowned as his cel phone hummed on the desk in his study alcove. Not a call this time, but a text message: **How are you going to prove it to me when you've gotten him to agree to not talk?**

"Honey?" Christine called across the room.

Michael felt sick in the pit of his stomach, and didn't notice that Ernesto was now right at his side, looking at the text along with him.

"Shit. Damn texts are too short; no way to get anything on them." He looked at his pale brother in law, and motioned for him to sit down, which he did. The slightly relaxed vibe that had started in the living room crashed to a halt, replaced by silence, everyone's attention drawn now to the two men off to the side in the alcove. "Call him; see if you can get him to answer that way."

Michael nodded, and allowed Ernesto to reach over him to put the phone on speaker. Neither one of them was very surprised when he went unanswered.

"What do we do now?" Christine watched as her husband's flawless memory failed him.

* * *

I hate waiting, he thought. Why the hell doesn't he answer? His muscles felt tense, uncomfortable from sleep that hadn't been worth piss. He felt like he wanted to cough; loud, clear, and long, not that it would make anything any better, and suppressed it as best he could, hacking into his elbow when it became inevitable, and before long, rewarded with an answering text.

* * *

"Let's go up to your room," Kurt suggested, having cleared away their dishes, and set the dishwasher to run. Carole had taken over, insisting on finishing the job, and Kurt could see the signs: Blaine was looking distant, even to him, and that meant his mask was firmly in place. They couldn't go out yet, and the tension throughout the downstairs of the house wasn't helping.

"Bold much," Blaine smiled back at him.

"You _owe_ me," he insisted. Kurt enjoyed Blaine's befuddled look before going on. "Your makeover can't be complete until I go all Clinton and Stacey rolled into one on your wardrobe. C'mon, you promised," he added, with a comical pout.

"I do," he admitted. "Forgive me for forgetting."

Kurt smiled a genuine smile now, his plan to distract Blaine (and also of course to ruthlessly weed what remained of his wardrobe) successful. "Later. Then, we'll see if we can get your badass Auntie to take us shopping later. I swear," he turned around to Blaine, who was now obediently trooping up the stairs behind him, "she's scarier than Santana!"

Blaine laughed out loud. "Oh, Kurt, you have no idea!"

Christine smiled at the boys, and caught Cooper smiling at them too. She had to agree with Blaine on this one.

* * *

"Kuuuuurt, I'm gonna be naked, I have practically nothing left!" Blaine whined, reaching for his boyfriend, who stepped into his outstretched arms.

"Really, Blaine? In public? No. How tacky," Kurt teased, then gestured to the 'keep' pile to be put away. "You've got some good basics, and I'm not kidding, we'll do a jailbreak come hell or high water and go shopping. I mean, if we're trying to look like we're just doing normal things, what could be more normal than that?"

"Brilliant, as always, my love," Blaine murmured, before attacking Kurt's jaw and then neck with kisses.

"You may have to buy me another scarf if you keep that up."

Blaine smiled as he kissed him again, loving the breathy, sexy tone in Kurt's voice. "Small price to pay."

"Maybe. Or not. I only go for the very best you know," Kurt teased, then backed up a little, conscious of the fact that the house was still full of people. "How about I go get a box to pack up the 'give away' pile?"

Sensing defeat, but seeing the reason for it, Blaine pulled back to look at his slightly flushed boyfriend. "Hurry back. I'll change while you're gone."

Kurt nodded. He'd already dressed for the day, and really did hope that soon enough plans would be in place so that they could go out. Much as he loved the people here, he was starting to feel a bit closed in, and wondered if maybe Blaine needed to get out as much as he did. He made it to the door to the cellar, off the kitchen unnoticed by the preoccupied adults in the living room.

* * *

"But don't you think he'd be safer at Dalton?" Michael felt so frustrated. He'd given up on trying to get any further answers after his last text had gone unanswered. Concealed surveillance didn't give him any comfort right now.

"Not necessarily," Ernesto answered, looking to him and then his sister in law. "It's not a fortress, and doing such an obvious move might make the situation _more_ dangerous. Think about it. It would look like something you'd do in response to a threat, which maybe would be more public than your caller thinks is safe. If we try to make it look like you're all just going about your regular business, it's more convincing that you've been scared into doing what he wants, and too scared to tell anyone." He looked to his wife, and her look told him it wasn't working. "Look, they're working on narrowing the suspect list, which honestly isn't that big. I know it sounds stupid, but try to be patient."

* * *

He'd been too busy listening at his spot near the heat vent, and the light snapping on surprised him. He smiled then, seeing the boy descend the stairs alone.

* * *

"There's like a ton of boxes down there, I wonder what's keeping him," Blaine muttered out loud. He'd finished dressing a few moments ago, in one of his new outfits from Hudson's. Slipping his socks on, he decided to join him.

* * *

"Not a sound," he threatened in a voice just above a whisper, at the boy. The boyfriend. Kurt.

Kurt backed up, wondering if he'd be able to yell even if he wanted to, and raised his hands in surrender. He'd never had anyone point a gun at him before, and he was terrified. He wondered if this was what it felt like right before you fainted from fear, as he backed away from the man, and nodded his agreement.

"I wasn't prepared for this," the man with the gun admitted, "but I'll take it. Get away from the stairs," he commanded, and gestured with his gun to the space under them. "Over there. Now. One noise and I swear it'll be your last."

Kurt's eyes were wide with fear, and he crouched in the space, tried to make himself small, and weighed his options. The guy was looking right at him, and seemed like he meant what he said. On the other hand, if he did make noise, maybe he'd be the only one hurt, since he could warn the others. Crouched under the stairs, he saw a heat vent on the ceiling not far from the stairs, under the living room somewhere, maybe. And he could hear conversations clearly, loudly even. Before he could decide what to do, he heard the door to the basement open, followed immediately by feet noisily descending. Then he heard him.

"Kurt! Did you find an empty box yet?"

The man stepped out again, as Kurt watched in horror, though this time he was concealing his gun behind himself. Maybe there was enough time, he wondered...

"I'm glad you're down here," the man's voice was hoarse, and very quiet. "Don't think about yelling, or I'll kill him." And he revealed his gun, and pointed it away from Blaine, drawing Blaine's attention to Kurt, standing off to the side now.

"What -"

"Shut up. What I want is simple, damn it. Or was. I'm not sure about now."

Blaine felt ready to throw up. The large handgun was pointed right at Kurt, and he didn't dare do anything yet. He took a few steps backwards, retreating deeper into the cellar. "This isn't about him. Please, don't do it. Don't hurt him," he pleaded in a voice just above a whisper. Like Kurt, he now became aware of how much noise carried from the first floor to where they were standing. He took another few steps away.

"You can't get away that way, you know. I've had time to check." The man informed him grimly, as he watched the scared-looking teen backing away. "Maybe I should have dealt with you directly from the beginning. Not like you teenage boys listen to your elders these days," he sighed. "No heroics? Creeping away to a corner?" he jeered quietly, his attention back on Blaine, who had pleaded with Kurt as best he could without words to please not try anything. "Maybe Rick's right after all, you fags don't seem to have a lot of fight in you."

"Just tell me what you want," Blaine begged. "Don't hurt him. Please." He stepped further away, a few steps.

"At least you care about him, for real. Even I can see that," he said, looking at the boy his gun was pointed at, who looked deathly pale now. He glanced towards Blaine. "But I didn't want him down here. I just wanted you. I'm not sure it's worth it to have a witness." He clicked something on the gun, and Blaine wondered if it was the safety. Shit, he thought; the gun was pointed at Kurt and he looked like maybe he was aiming it.

"No. Don't do it -"

"If neither one of you can testify -"

"NO!" Blaine yelled, and reached into the open box beside him. The man's face fell, when he felt it, before he could process what had happened. A knife was embedded in his right shoulder, then, and before he could sink to the floor, another, into his chest. The gun clattered to the floor.

"No, Blaine. Stop!" Kurt yelled as loudly as he could.

**A/N: Breathe, dear readers! **

**By now, many (most?) of you have probably guessed who this intruder is, but I'll give this tiny non-spoiler: he's no longer a threat. Had you guessed before this chapter?**

**I know many of you read many stories, but if the action at the end confused you, I suggest you re-read chapter one (it's short); this isn't a continuity glitch, I assure you!**

**We won't be out of the basement quite yet until next chapter, but this tale is finally starting to reach its conclusion. **

**Kurt mentions going all Clinton and Stacey (these are the first names of the hosts of the popular TV show What Not to Wear).**

**To all my readers, old and new, thank you so much for reading and investing in this story. As always, I'd love to hear from you. As for me, I think I need a nap – this was tiring to write!**


	90. Chapter 90 Sunday afternoon and evening

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or anything you might recognize here. Dear readers, I am so sorry that my effort to fix a silly error in the author's note for last chapter ended up as a re-posting of chapter 89. So, here we go, with an actual update... and thanks for forgiving me!**

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed … Michael's birthday party ended up being more eventful than anyone planned, including a death threat against Blaine, brief panic when the boys were out for a stroll, and then on Sunday morning, an awful surprise in the basement. Here's the flashback:_

"_But I didn't want him down here. I just wanted you. I'm not sure it's worth it to have a witness." He clicked something on the gun, and Blaine wondered if it was the safety. Shit, he thought; the gun was pointed at Kurt and he looked like maybe he was aiming it._

"_No. Don't do it -"_

"_If neither one of you can testify -"_

"_NO!" Blaine yelled, and reached into the open box beside him. The man's face fell, when he felt it, before he could process what had happened. A knife was embedded in his right shoulder, then, before he could sink to the floor, another, into his chest. The gun clattered to the floor._

"_No, Blaine. Stop!" Kurt yelled as loudly as he could._

_And, that's what you missed!]_

Everyone in the living and dining rooms looked at each other. "Oh my God!" Michael yelled, and other exclamations were lost as everyone ran in the direction of the basement. Mimi and Cooper were closest to the kitchen, and the first down the stairs, followed by everyone else.

"Carole!" Mimi yelled, seeing the man on the floor seeping blood, with two knives embedded in his torso. She immediately saw the gun lying next to his right hand, and that the safety was off. Cooper saw it too and went to move it away. "No! Leave it, right there. Do not touch it," she commanded. Everyone heard it, and Carole squatted next to the man, who let out a moan.

Mimi saw next that Cooper, her sister, and Michael had crowded around Blaine, who was pale and breathing hard. Kurt stood off to the side, and she heard Burt's voice as he checked him out, panicked and then relieved-sounding. She locked eyes with her husband next, who was on the phone, and centered her attention on him.

"Yes, we've got a man with knife wounds, and two traumatized crime victims, one of them looks like he's going into shock." He paused for a moment, listening. "Yes, I'm on my way upstairs to meet you and bring you here." She listened as he paused again. "Yes, definitely _two_ ambulances. Right. Uh, huh." She watched as he went upstairs.

"Carole?" Mimi stood on Christine's far side, away from the man. The man who'd pointed a gun, safety off, at Blaine or Kurt, or maybe both of them. She recognized the knives, and nodded grimly: Blaine's throwing knives, and only someone who knew how to use them could have ended up with this result: both were firmly embedded, straight in. She didn't see any more than two.

"Can you hear me?" Carole asked the man. He opened his eyes and looked at her, and nodded. "Don't try to get up. I'm a nurse. Listen. An ambulance is on the way. We're not going to move the knives right now. Do you understand?"

Mimi had to admire the professionalism. Surely Carole knew he was the attacker. And Carole was fearless, despite all the blood and the terrifying situation they'd raced to discover. "All right, can you tell me your name?"

"Richard Nelson, Senior." He gasped, starting to look grey, but he kept his eyes open.

Carole reached out to hold each hand. "Squeeze my hands." He winced, and did as she asked. "Can you move your feet a little?" She looked down, and saw that he was able to do that. "They'll be here soon, just stay where you are." She motioned for Mimi to take her place, and she did. Mimi watched as Carole joined Burt and Kurt.

"Kurt, are you all right?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing happened to me, I'm okay. Is Blaine okay?"

Carole noticed she could barely see the boy, surrounded by his family, but she could hear him, and his breathing was labored and fast.

Burt spoke up. "Kurt was worried about me, but once I told him I was okay, that's the first thing he wanted to know."

"And are you?" she asked quietly, studying his face intently.

"My heart's racing a bit, sure, but no chest pain. I'm not the patient here, honey, I swear it."

She nodded, knowing he wouldn't lie about this, and squeezed his hands to reassure him. "God, I hope that ambulance is fast."

* * *

"Ernesto, you've got to stop. The situation is under control, and no one, including me, would ever fault you for any of this. Damn it, I was here this morning, and _I_ fucking didn't do a house search either. C'mon!"

"Millie..." his voice trailed off weakly, as he looked at the departing ambulances. He cleared his throat, then looked back at her. "It kills me. Last night, after we got back, we were all so relieved the boys were safe, and the house had been full of people for hours. What kills me, is it _did_ occur to me to search every last fucking nook and cranny of this place, and you know why I didn't?"

"I think I do." Her cool tone stopped him, and he looked at her, waiting for her to go on. "Let me guess. You had panicked parents, scared boys, and a situation that looked like it was stable. Doing a detailed search probably just would have prolonged their panic, and you're probably right." She reached out to massage his closest arm. "Besides, down in that basement? Remember, I just popped in, making sure the boys down there document it right. You told me they'd just moved, and it's full of boxes and crates. He could have hid in one if he'd wanted to, and for all we know he did. Without opening every box or crate large enough to hide a person, you wouldn't have known if it was clear."

She sighed, knowing she wasn't really getting through, that he was blaming himself, tortured with what-ifs. "Get in my car. I have to go there anyway, so you might as well come along."

He nodded; several cars full had already left, and Mimi had accompanied her sister once she'd seen that he was talking to Millie. "All right, Iron Lady, who am I to argue?"

She smiled, seeing the return of his usual banter with her. Even if it was muted, at least he was talking to her, and she knew that seeing the boys stabilized would do more good than anything else right now.

* * *

"He's released? Wow, that's quick," Burt commented. To him, his little boy still looked a little shaky, but he did look like he'd be okay. Still very pale, but he'd calmed down, was able to drink a little, and his breathing was steady and sounded normal to him. Kurt had objected strenuously when they'd tried to give him some medication to calm down, insisting that he was fine, and didn't want them. He smiled a bit, remembering, and thought Kurt looked pretty recovered as he told off the PA who'd failed to convince him and had appealed instead to Burt. Kurt's infamous glare was familiar, as was his resolute expression and the way he stood up and stared her down, coldly insisting that he was fine, and needed to check on his boyfriend. They'd traveled to the hospital using their own car, since Carole had judged him stable enough to do that.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Kurt, Blaine had fainted in the ambulance, twice. He'd roused after a couple of minutes, panicked again when he saw that he was in an ambulance and now had IV fluid going into his arm. His father had gone with him, and Michael had been relieved when Mimi took charge of Christine and Cooper and arranged to follow them. Michael stayed with him, trying to calm him and failing, and tried to mask his own anxiety, all the while listening to the medics relaying information to the hospital, using terms he didn't understand.

"Still can't stabilize his pressure, and his respirations are shallow and tachypneic. We've got him on a nonrebreather, sat. is stable at 96%, wide open. Pulses are thready, you've seen the EKG. Patient is alert and oriented times three," Michael heard, though he couldn't comprehend. That his son was panicked, and nothing he said really changed that so far, was very clear.

He remembered what Blaine had said over and over in the basement, and again in the ambulance before his eyes rolled back and he passed out. "Dad, he had a gun, he said he was going to kill Kurt. I didn't know what to do. I was afraid to yell for help, and I backed towards my practice set-up. What have I done? I didn't want to kill anyone! I've never thrown a knife at a person!" Reassurances that Kurt was all right, that his attacker was alive and in the other ambulance didn't seem to penetrate. Then there had been the awful moment when Blaine started vomiting while hooked up to the mask. Michael had been calmly but firmly pushed away, while the paramedic handled everything. Michael himself had panicked when Blaine passed out again, only to be re-immersed in hell when Blaine's eyes fluttered open, and his son was still just as freaked out as before.

* * *

Standing beside his bed, he had no idea how much time had passed. Christine was in a chair beside him, holding Blaine's hand. Carole had gotten the okay to join them, and he listened up when a doctor came into the room.

"Blaine? How are you doing?"

Blaine looked up into the eyes of the white coated doctor standing next to his father. He barely knew what to say. He swallowed before answering, "Fine. I think."

"Good. I'm Dr. Merrihew. Do you know where you are?"

"Um, I'm in the hospital." The doctor noticed that Blaine was starting to focus on the conversation better now.

Christine and Michael watched as the doctor asked a few more questions and examined him, before asking them to step outside the room with him.

"He's recovering well; what happened was he experienced psychogenic shock, starting almost right after the precipitating event." The doctor paused, not knowing all the details of what had happened in the basement. "Basically, a cascade of events in his body led to a sharp drop in blood pressure. One of the medications he received actually made that worse, before we could make it better. He's stable now; his vital signs are almost normal now, and the sedative we gave him will wear off. We'd like to keep him overnight though, to monitor him and see how he is once the medications wear off."

Carole could tell the scared parents in front of her were only comprehending a portion of what they heard. "Maybe I can help?" she asked them, and both eagerly nodded their assent.

"Doctor, I'm on staff here," he nodded, recognizing her now. "These are my friends, and the other boy, the one who just got cleared, is my son. Can you tell if he's going to be all right?" She thought she already knew the answer to that, but hoped she was successful in cuing the doctor to make it more understandable for Blaine's parents.

"Oh. Right. Yes, he's fine physically, now. With this kind of shock, once the vital signs stabilize, and we'll recheck the labs to make sure they improve as well, there are usually no lasting physical effects. However," he frowned, "he's sustained an emotional trauma. That can be more unpredictable, and he'll need assessment and support for that, which the team is also working on."

"Thank you," Christine whispered. "I think I'll go sit with him again."

Michael shot a worried glance at his wife. "Can you tell me about, um, the other guy. Look, I get it, about patient confidentiality and all that – I'm a lawyer. But Blaine's torn up; he thinks he might have killed him, and even if it was in self defense, he's not okay with that. Please; anything you can tell me."

The doctor nodded. "Actually, the patient did grant permission for that to be shared. He's expected to stabilize; the wounds were clean, and the blood loss was not as bad as you'd think. Both knives were away from major arteries. He's got a chest tube in, and he's on medication." The doctor wondered how much more he should tell; granted, the patient had said to keep nothing back, but still. "He's not got that long to live, but that would have been true anyway."

"What?"

"Cancer. He's got lung cancer, stage four, metastatic." He looked to see if Michael looked like he understood, but he didn't seem to. "That means that even if this hadn't happened, he didn't have long to live. His knife wounds won't kill him; like I said, he's stable as far as those go, but he's weak."

"Thank you, doctor." He shook his hand, and went in to join his wife.

* * *

Burt brought his son another of those fancy coffee drinks he liked; the shop in the hospital lobby had almost been ready to close, but he'd made it in time.

"Dad, thank you," Kurt murmured, perched on the edge of Blaine's bed. Burt was glad the hospital wasn't too full; the single room they had Blaine in wasn't too cramped, and had a sort of windowseat/couch thing on one side, as well as a recliner and two regular chairs. It had been a busy place, but he knew the staff wanted to kick most of them out soon.

"No coffee for me?"

Everyone turned and smiled: Blaine was awake, making puppy eyes at Kurt, and smiling.

"Maybe I could share," Kurt murmured, making sure Blaine sat up all the way.

"Honey, are you all right?" Christine asked, trying to keep the worry from her voice.

Blaine looked sheepish. "Mom, really, I'm fine now. I mean, it feels weird, all of this," he gestured at the heart monitor on his chest, and the IV access on his arm, where he was still receiving IV fluids. "But I'm okay." Blaine frowned, and looked searchingly at his mother. "Mom? Are you okay?"

Christine smiled at him. "Same as yesterday, sweetie. A little queasy, but I'm fine now. I guess our little somebody is sturdy."

Everyone smiled at her, and it was easy to believe her. Once she knew Blaine was out of trouble, she'd calmed considerably. Michael had even managed to get her mashed potatoes at the cafeteria, which she'd gobbled down eagerly. He'd been ridiculously pleased that she'd done that.

The door to the room opened, and a nurse in lavender scrubs greeted them. "Hi, folks. Visiting hours were over a while ago, which is okay. But Blaine will need to get some rest, and well, there are a lot of you..."

* * *

Soon after, Christine had agreed to go home with Cooper, Burt and Carole said their good nights. Mimi and Ernesto had gone hours ago. Michael decided to stay the night, and surprised Kurt by offering to have him stay too.

"Mr. Anderson, thank you again, for letting me stay."

"It's all right, Kurt. I think you're good at distracting Blaine, and he told me you know about his problems with nightmares, from before."

"I do. I'll do anything I can for him."

"I know you will, son. Look, I'm going to go meet Cooper, he brought a bag for me, and he picked up some things for you too from your house. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

Kurt nodded. Blaine woke up, and held out his arms to him.

"Shall I see if I can get your heart racing?" Kurt teased, leaning in to kiss him lightly.

"Always. You know you can," Blaine growled back. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too." Kurt smiled at him. Right now he looked almost normal.

"Will you sing to me?"

Kurt laughed, seeing the comedically silly pleading in his boyfriend's honey eyes. "I suppose. What did you have in mind?"

"I dunno. If I were Sheldon I'd ask for 'Soft Kitty' -"

"But that's only if you're sick," Kurt teased.

"Well, he got Penny to sing it when he was homesick," Blaine argued.

"True," Kurt giggled. "Goofball."

"Will you sing it for me?" Blaine whispered. "I'd love to hear you sing it."

"Really, Blaine?" Kurt looked at him. "Fine."

_Soft kitty, warm kitty,_

_Little ball of fur._

_Happy kitty, sleepy kitty_

_Purr purr purr_

"Happy now?" Kurt asked.

"You have no idea," Blaine cooed back. "You sing it even better than Penny,"

Kurt nodded, and settled himself in beside Blaine. "I don't think I'm gonna get to sleep here, but maybe I can visit. Want to watch some TV?"

A few minutes later, Michael rejoined them; except for the IV (well, and the hospital setting) Blaine looked like himself, and they looked like they usually did, half watching some fashion show and flirting, sharing a snack. What he saw reassured him more than anything else had all day.

**A/N: The song is from the TV show The Big Bang Theory, Soft Kitty. Sorry, short on fluff, but I hope you all forgive me for the inadvertent reposting of chapter 89. If this one has typos or other goofs, mea culpa, but I wanted to get this out right away. And now I have to shower and go scurry off to work. I'd love to hear from you. We're out of medical-land, pretty much, I swear it!**


	91. Chapter 91 The kids are all right

**A/N: I don't own Glee (Ryan Murphy and Fox do) or anything you might recognize here. I do own my original characters and my stories, but I'm up for sharing. New readers, welcome! Those of you who've been with me for much longer, and especially those of you whose input showed up in this story, I thank you so much for your continuing support. See you at the end note.**

_[Cue the Glee voiceover guy: And here's what you missed …well, the suspense with the identity of Blaine's blackmailer is over, and our boys are safe. But where did Mimi and Ernesto go? They left the hospital before anyone else, didn't they? So, that's what you missed!]_

**Earlier that afternoon...**

"'Nesto, come with me."

Her voice steadied him enough to focus and follow her out of the room. Kurt had just joined them, and he was surprised that his strident tones hadn't wakened up the boy, but they hadn't. He recalled how Blaine's parents, along with the boyfriend's dad and soon to be stepmother had tried to bite back smiles, to which the agitated teen had been oblivious.

"_Then they tried to make me take a _tranquilizer_! What is _wrong_ with these people!" Kurt ranted._

_Burt had side-eyed Carole. She could tell he was only barely holding back from laughing out loud. Fortunately, Kurt was too miffed, too intent on telling his story to the Andersons, to notice. They listened to him going on about it again._

"_I told them I was _fine_, that I just wanted to go check on my boyfriend. What does it _take_ for these people to get it? Dad, thank God you didn't listen when they tried to go over my head ..."_

_Burt chuckled as Kurt kept on. No, dear son, I value my life more than that. __His knew too that his son was proud of his latest growth spurt, that had resulted in them being able to see literally eye to eye. Whether he had consciously used his height to advantage or not, when Kurt had imperiously hopped off the exam table and loomed over the female PA to inform her of his intention to get the hell out of that room to see his boyfriend, since he was _fine_, he had to admire the controlled drama Kurt exhibited._

They stopped over in front of the next empty room.

"Babe, Blaine's sleeping, and they said he's gonna be just fine." She looked at him intently. "I know what you're thinking, but _fine_ starts with physical. And he's got a lot of support in there. Let's go."

"Mims, I just can't help but think I should have searched the house when we got back last night -"

"Stop." Her tone was flat, but he looked at her eyes, which were full of love and understanding. "There were good reasons not to, and besides, I happen to know Millie told you that under the circumstances she'd have done the same."

Ernesto snorted. As if he could keep anything secret, when it involved those two. "Remind me never to cross either of you."

"Because we'd _both_ come after your sorry ass," she completed their old joke. "See? I've got you well trained." She smiled, seeing the answering smile on his face. "But really, let's go. I have plans for you, big fella," she said, waggling her eyebrows playfully.

He followed after her then without protest. He knew she was right. And he had an idea what those plans would entail.

* * *

Kurt was leaning over Blaine's bed now, studying him intently. Blaine really was out, not responding to Kurt's hand holding his, looking peaceful as he slept. Kurt carefully avoided the IV line and tubing, and frowned at the heart monitor box on his boyfriend's chest, with the colored wires spreading out from it, mostly concealed under the insipid blue patterned hospital gown. "You're sure he's okay?"

Burt heard the change in his voice, and felt for his son. Poor guy, he thought; he's had to see his loved ones hooked up like this more often than is fair. Kurt hated hospitals, he knew, but he thought he'd have a hard time dragging him away today. He hoped the Andersons would understand.

He'd missed the glances Carole had shared with Blaine's parents, but Carole stepped closer to the bed and laid a gentle hand on Kurt's arm. "Sweetie, I'm sure he'd be awake and reassuring you yourself, if they hadn't given him IV lorazepam." She smiled at him, and looked at Blaine fondly. "I swear, Kurt, it wasn't a big dose, but apparently he's a lightweight when it comes to most drugs."

He remembered how Blaine had told him he avoided even over the counter night time cold medicine unless he was utterly miserable, since he'd said at the time it would knock him out for like ten hours. Looking down at him, Kurt believed Blaine hadn't exaggerated at all.

Burt looked on as Kurt suddenly smirked, as if reliving an old joke with the sleeping boy. Considering how his son looked, he wouldn't be surprised if he was wondering if he could wake his sleeping boyfriend with a kiss. Whatever else happened, he was convinced his son was indeed all right, going from indignant rant to adoring his boyfriend in moments, all the while maintaining his dignified bearing and somehow, his laboriously perfect hair. God, I miss having hair, Burt randomly thought.

Michael sat curled around Christine on the window seat opposite the bed. She snuggled further into his shoulder, and squeezed his leg with her free hand. Their eyes were on their sleeping son, but it did finally seem as if things were calming down.

"Did you want anything else, hon?" he asked her quietly.

"No, I'm good for now. My knight," she giggled, "with mashed potatoes." She tore her eyes away from her son to look up at her husband. "How did you get those at this time of day, exactly?"

"Are you doubting my powers of persuasion, madam?" he teased back.

"Never. Silly question. Those cafeteria people didn't have a chance. But seriously, they hit the spot, and I'm good. Really. Blaine looks zonkered out, doesn't he?"

If Kurt's right there beside him, stroking his hand, and he doesn't bat an eyelash, I'd have to say yes, Cooper thought, keeping his answer silent. He was amazed that the drama had all happened so fast, and ended so quickly. Though he was thankful for that. He smiled grimly, thinking that he was glad the bad guy in this scenario hadn't gotten to blather on endlessly, messing with his brother and Kurt, and that, unlike the usual cheesy scripts his successful actor friends complained about after a day's shooting, no shots had ever been fired.

As it turned out, the bad guy was Rick the Stick's father, which surprised no one in law enforcement. While Blaine slept (which had happened incredibly quickly, he thought), Cooper had talked to Millie Johnson, along with his father and Christine, and had been surprised to hear how fast she had processed things, and worked to smooth things over that he hadn't even considered as complications (though clearly his father had). How Richard Nelson Sr. had been awake for the whole ambulance ride, and while weak and in pain, had still been able to talk to her soon after. Evidently, he'd admitted everything from the outset, pleading guilty and answering all her questions, asking only that his cooperation be noted, and that his one request be granted: that he'd be able to see his son a few times before he died. He also had confirmed what Kurt had told her, that he'd threatened the both of them, talked about not wanting witnesses or letting either one of them testify, and that Kurt had heard a click on his gun before Blaine had stopped him. When asked, he'd declined to file charges against Blaine, arguing that he knew Blaine would be cleared of doing what he did as self defense, and that he saw no point in prolonging it. Again, he'd pleaded for visitation rights with his son in exchange for his cooperation, and Millie told him she'd do what she could.

Michael was clearly relieved Blaine wouldn't face the additional trauma of facing charges. Even if it was an open and shut case, having it fast tracked to be dismissed this quickly was something he was very grateful for. Blaine's attacker was going to die, soon enough that he qualified for hospice treatment because of his advanced and metastatic lung cancer, as Detective Johnson had told them. He felt he could understand, in a way, the man's motivation: the charges against Rick would land him in jail for a very long time, and if all of them were prosecuted as hate crimes and none of them were dismissed, it could carry a maximum sentence of life in prison. He didn't think this was likely, given that Blaine's injuries and recovery would convince a jury they weren't that bad. As for the kidnapping, while this was indisputable, given the evidence and large number of witnesses (not to mention that Rick's wingmen had readily testified against him in order to, they hoped, minimize their own sentences), it was a charge that would stick, but again, the brevity of it would also argue against a maximum sentence. As for what Rick had threatened but never gotten to carry out? Michael didn't want to name it, even to think about it, but he knew from reviewing similar cases that once things had escalated this far, unless interrupted, they often ended just that way for the victim.

"Dad, you okay?" Cooper asked his father, noting the faraway look in his eyes.

"Yeah. Just tired, I guess. I wish Blaine would wake up, and I know he will, but maybe it's better to just let him be for a bit."

"You didn't get anything for yourself," Cooper reminded him. He looked around the room, seeming to notice for the first time that Mimi and Ernesto were no longer with them. "How about I make a sandwich run?"

The nurse who had entered the room to check on Blaine heard him, and smiled reassuringly at the group. "I think he'll probably wake up soon." Her eyes darted to the monitor displays, then back to the boy's parents. "It's good that you're here. If you have questions, don't hesitate to call me," and she indicated the red call button on the bed's side rail. She fiddled with the IV, listened with her stethoscope, and seeming satisfied, left the room with a quiet, "I'll be in again later."

Before Cooper returned, the door to the hall opened again, with a woman bearing a tray full of covered cups. "Hello, I'm Rosa, one of the LNAs here on the floor. We thought maybe you could use these," and she set the tray down on the bedside table. "Let us know if you'd like more ice waters."

Cooper entered a few minutes later, grinning broadly, with the promised sandwiches. "Burt, sorry, but I couldn't get any buttered toasted pastrami with extra mayo down there," he said, eyes dancing as he watched as Burt got it and Kurt didn't.

"Dad! You can't eat that, I don't care how stressful today has been!"

Burt laughed at Kurt's indignant tone, and Carole giggled too. Burt then opened his sandwich and waved it in Kurt's direction. "Kiddo, for one, this hospital as almost as good at being the food police as you are – they don't even have pastrami on the menu! Two, Cooper's pulling your leg. See? He just got a round of turkey on wheat with lettuce and tomato for everyone, and I do think I'm entitled to one measly packet of _light_ mayo," he grumped good naturedly.

"Fine, laugh all you want, I know you still like it," Kurt pouted, reaching for his own sandwich. They all thanked Cooper, as they had now been at the hospital for several hours, and the room was quiet as they all munched and downed the ice waters the LNA had brought them.

* * *

They were just finishing lunch at Ernesto's brother's place. Mimi had brought the girls to the side and had given them an edited version of what had happened, and the girls were quiet but seemed relieved that their beloved cousin was okay. When Mimi had suggested they stay a little longer, the girls hadn't protested, and Justin had even offered to help them get through their homework.

"And we're not taking the girls home why?" Ernesto asked his wife, as they walked out to the car. He beat her to it, opening her door for her, signaling that he was fully intending to drive.

"You know you can't fool me." He got in beside her and looked at her. Her no-nonsense expression was familiar.

"Fine. Where to, fair maiden?"

"Really? You need to relax, and get rid of that adrenaline floating around. Go. Winner chooses the movie tonight. You, sir, will be watching a sappy romantic comedy before you know it." She smiled then, teasing him.

"You wouldn't! Oh shit, you totally would!" She smirked at his flustered tone. "It is _so_ on, my lady. And no chivalry either. I am _so_ in it to win it."

"Big talk. Let's see some action," she bantered, reaching for the folded newspaper discarded on the back seat, that they'd picked up (then ignored) while waiting in the hospital. "Isn't there some new Hugh Grant movie with songs by Taylor Swift that opened this weekend?"

"Dear God no," he muttered. "Him, I can take, sort of. You are _not_ telling me there is a sappy movie starring _that guy_ with a soundtrack from _that_ woman. That must surely be some sort of special hell for guys trying to make something up to their woman for. And you keep telling me I'm not supposed to feel guilty!" he insisted, with a smile.

"Okay, maybe I just totally made that up. But make no mistake, mister, it is _so_ on. And if the point spread is bad enough, you'll wish Hollywood had made _that_ movie. Drive," she commanded.

She thought back to before they were married. She'd known him before he'd gone to Iraq, back in the first damned Iraq war. He'd been cocky, funny, not too serious, and unashamed of playing the field, flirting with her, yes, but with lots of their friends too. Except for a few of them, they'd all mostly been settling into their first crappy jobs after college, not eager to settle down, and Ernesto had been popular with all of them, eager to party, but not too hard. Like her, happier to have a good time with friends than to get smashed. More than once they'd been the last ones standing at parties.

Somehow along the way, they'd gotten to know each other beyond the parties, first going to concerts together now and then, then road tripping to the Jersey shore when they found they both missed the ocean, living out in Ohio but not from there. They'd eased into being a couple, and had almost casually claimed each other, or at least that's how it looked to their friends. He'd come in for his share of kidding when he was 'off the market', but their friends had been happy for them.

Then he'd gone to Iraq. Back then, lots of people were in the Army Reserves, and no one thought anything of it. It was a safe thing to do, you got to help out in national disasters, and the joke was always, who are we gonna be defending Ohio against? The Canadians? But, like everyone in the country, they all learned differently as the war just wouldn't go away, and reservists everywhere were called up to active duty, packed off to Iraq, leaving their stunned families and friends behind.

Mimi thought grimly of how they'd all learned lingo that crept into everyday conversation, including the one bit she hated the most: IEDs – standing for improvised explosive devices. She thought of terrorists dressed as civilians, setting off explosives that ended lives, and marred others. How her beloved Ernesto, a tactical specialist, had managed to save most of the guys in his armored vehicle, fighting off their attackers, but had been broken later by the double impact of losing the men he thought of as brothers, and by the shell he'd set off and what he saw: as usual, there were civilians too close by, and he swore he saw a woman's face, right before it all turned into a nightmare turned back on their attackers.

Ernesto barely acknowledged the concussion he suffered, or the shrapnel bits still in his leg to this day, she knew. But not seeing their attackers until the bomb went off, and then killing at least one civilian in their desperate defense as they waited for backup, had wounded his psyche deeply. She knew before they were reunited that he was broken, even as he refused to admit it.

At first, she'd wondered why he refused to sleep over, always leaving with some excuse, causing her to wonder what had changed between them. When she'd finally gotten upset, and he had agreed to stay that night, she learned why, when he woke up drenched and sobbing, and unwilling to talk to her about it. He hadn't counted on her stubbornness though, and eventually told her everything.

It had been Mimi's idea to have him teach her how to shoot, and she'd progressed from beginner to crack shot faster than he expected. They'd rebonded in their many trips to the shooting range, and he marveled at her skill and focus, and learned to enjoy shooting beside her. In time, he listened to her, and went to the therapy sessions he'd been refusing for months. Finally, the nightmares started to decrease, and were extremely rare now. She'd tease him that it was because his woman was beside him, packing heat, and not afraid to use it (except he also knew she wasn't kidding). He'd grown to accept that her strength and the ferocity of her love did make him feel safe again, and eventually was able to settle back into civilian life, becoming a security expert for banks and other high profile businesses throughout Ohio.

"One more round?" He begged, making teasing puppy eyes to her. He knew she couldn't hear him with the protective ear gear she had on, but he also knew she didn't need to.

She nodded her head 'no', and smiled, and gestured for him to follow her out of the practice range. Once out, they both took their headgear off. "No, we're done here, mi amore," she crooned. "But, since it's close to a tie, and I'm feeling generous," she cooed, pulling him closer, "I'll let you help choose. But remember, we've gotta go pick up the girls, so it's got to be something they can watch too."

"Superheroes?" He grinned hopefully.

"Yes, superheroes. Whichever new one is out. Fine. The girls kind of crush on Chris Hemsworth anyway," she laughed.

"Should I be jealous?" he teased.

"Not a chance. He's _so_ not my type." She leaned over and kissed him. As they got into the car (as usual, he wanted to drive, and she let him), she stopped him before he put the key in the ignition. "He's going to be all right, you know," she said softly.

"I know. Now," he added.

"And I know you'll know how to help him," she continued. "You okay, loverboy?"

"I am. Better than okay," he grinned at her, and then gestured at the building they'd just left. "Such a romantic you are."

"You got that right," she growled. "Don't you forget it."

He knew that he never would.

**A/N: So, the kids are all right, as the chapter title promises, including the grown up ones. I hope you liked this side trip into Ernesto and Mimi's life together. Uncle Ernie will definitely figure into Blaine's recovery, and I for one am glad he has Mimi.**

**As for terminology that may vary from place to place: PA stands for Physician's Assistant, and is someone who can perform many of the same functions as a doctor. You may remember that Kurt lets one of these have it earlier in the chapter, when she has the nerve to suggest he may need a dose of an anti-anxiety medcation. LNA stands for Licensed Nursing Assistant, or Nurses' Aide.**

**As always, I'd love to hear from you. I hope you enjoyed this, but I'd love to hear from you either way. Next up: we'll be back to the hallowed halls of McKinley, with a higher fluff content. Promise!**

**News flash! The US Supreme Court just struck down Prop 8, a major victory for the fight for marriage equality in the US!**


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